《Ode to the Vines》


 A Blossom of Hope

    "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."


    ¡ª Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four


    Pride is the main driver of man. Though contested by some, pride can motivate a person to achieve greatness or the opposite. In its sway, morals can become obsolete, allowing for the justification of the most heinous acts in the name of self-preservation and superiority. It is the stepping stone to destruction, the fire that lights the torch of death. I believed humans could always achieve greatness. That they all had the ability to repent. But through death, failure and lies, I realized that wasn''t true. I watched people turn on those they loved like a pack of wolves to retain their own desires. I watched them step over others to achieve their goals. Humans wear a veil of righteousness, but is as fragile as glass. I learned that some people are doves while others snakes. Whenever it is for their virtues or ego all humans are liars. their blood tainted one way or the other. After everything, I am lost in the world. The only thing I am sure of is that humanity''s biggest sin is its pride.


    It was quite dark, as every day. Dreary and wet. The leaning brick towers disappeared in the dense fog like a concrete jungle. The only sounds to be heard were the chatter of a quartet of women and the distant sound of horse hooves and rolling carriages on cobblestone. Occasionally, water would drip from the rotting wood roofs or the rusted metal framework of a few surrounding stores and puddles on the pavement. The smell of the downpour from the night before still lingered in the air pleasantly. The dim streetlights flickered, barely penetrating the veil of mist blanketing the city. Storefronts, weather-battered and worn lined the damp streets. Their appearance, marred by years of neglect and decay. I sat on my battered patched quilt, under the ripped awning of the closed-down pawn shop, as every day. For as long as I can remember, my existence consisted of the same thing. Grinding herbs into medicines and potions that never sold. After pacing around the market, my footsteps echoing hollowing on the pavement, staring pleadingly into the eyes of passers-by to no avail, I would sit back on the quilt, and wait for the day to end. Even after years on the streets, I still was rarely able to sleep. Most nights, I would hang my head low, red ribbons of hair falling over my face, and think about a future I would never have, occasionally dripping into unconsciousness for a few minutes at a time, awoken by the ceaseless cycle of horse-drawn carriages ran back and forth across the city. It was not until a particularly dreary day that everything changed.


    I held up my ragged lavender skirt and ran through the downpour. The pavement was slick and cold under my bare feet.


    ¡°Just great! Great!¡±


    I was often met with unluckiness, but this day was one of the worst I can remember. I wasn¡¯t even able to make it to the marketplace before the dark skies rained down on me. Ragged shirts and blouses that are found disposed of in the street or alleyways are not particularly waterproof. In an effort to keep the skirt and sleeves of my two-sizes-too-big blouse out of the mud, I dropped my basket of medicine. After cursing my existence, I was grabbed on the shoulder by a strong arm. As I whirled around to claw off my attacker I was met by the face of a sorrowful young man. His face, dark and brows knitted together, his chestnut hair stuck to his from the rain, dripping down his downturn mouth. His once grey suit was pasted with mud and grime. His expression was one I often had myself. Though not smart, I decided to hear him out.


    ¡°Please, my dear lady, I need your help!¡±


    ¡°Whatchu¡¯ want?¡± I spat as I wedged his iron fist off my shoulder.


    ¡°My wife, she-¡± He cut himself off midsentence with a deep cry. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you all over, dear lady!¡±


    ¡°Lookin¡¯ for me? What¡¯s this about?¡± I inquired suspiciously. It seems he finally came to his senses, brushed his dark hair out of his face, and spoke a bit less jumbled than before.


    ¡°My wife, she¡¯s very sick. She has always been a fairly frail woman.¡± He began. ¡°But these past weeks she has not been able to leave her bed. Barely able to open her eyes. They are not sure about the cause. All the treatments they tried had no effect. Because of her constant sickly state, the doctors called her a waste of time and refused to use any more medicine on her.¡± He began to swing his arm around in a rather erratic matter.


    ¡°A waste of time they said! A lost cause they say!¡±


    I backed up from the possibly deranged man and nodded as politely as I could muster, not wanting to escalate this situation anymore.


    ¡°Uff, what¡¯s this gotta¡¯ do with me?¡±


    ¡°I heard about you; A herbalist girl who makes medicine. My lady, you are my last help!¡±


    ¡°I-¡± My heart dropped to my feet. This was the first time anyone asked for my medicine, let alone to save someone¡¯s life. In truth, I didn¡¯t know how well they worked; or if all.


    ¡°Please my lady please!¡±


    ¡°Uh, yes I¡± I began to pick up my fallen medicine and placed them in my worn woven basket. ¡°As you can see mister, you might not want to take any of this medic-¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you make more? I¡¯ll do anything!¡± I was quite stuck in this situation. How could a person possibly say no to such a request?


    ¡°Fine, look. I can try to whip something up for you, but I can¡¯t be certain that¡¯ll work. What are her symptoms exactly?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes I!¡± He stood up straight, and once again tried to free the soaked strands of hair from his forehead and began to explain the symptoms.


    ¡°Coughing, fatigue, nausea, tiredness.¡± I listed to myself as I trudged back to my makeshift shelter. I flung down my rain-soaked basket and then sank next to it. ¡°Typhoid fever perhaps.¡± I thought through the possible causes as well as possible treatments. Unfortunately, these were all quite broad symptoms, nailing down a certain cause would be quite difficult. I twisted my strawberry hair around my hair and muttered to myself long enough to get even weirder looks from pedestrians than usual.


    ¡°Maybe, instead of figuring out the specific sickness, I could come up with medicine that cures a wide variety of sicknesses.¡± Despite my lack of proper education, I was not entirely helpless. I knew many different plant and herb properties. Every plant has its property and mixed with something else, it could change completely. Some plants had antibiotic properties, others hypolipidemic, or maybe antiplatelet.


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    ¡°All I gotta¡¯ do is find the right combination,¡± I told myself. ¡°No harder than cookin¡¯¡±


    I sat on an oak park bench, organizing my acquired plants while kicking my bare feet back and forth.


    ¡°Bee palm, catmint, azadirachta indica, liquorice. Wait, where¡¯s the feverfew?¡±


    For the few dollars I got from my medicine, or pawning abandoned items went straight to an apothecary shop to make more medicines. It was a simple cycle that made barely enough money to live off of. After making sure I had all the ingredients, I grabbed a glass vial out of my basket and began to work.


    I swung my basket at my side, as I was in quite a high mood. I, hopefully, created the medicine to save the woman¡¯s life! All that remained was to wait for the man.


    The sky was a light peach when I arrived at my usual spot under the pawn shop. It was a chilly morning. I had my feet tucked under my skirt and my hands under my lap. It misted lightly. In spite of myself, I waited for the man quite eagerly; making quick glances down the road and peaking down alleyways. I soon realized this was a complete waste of time when I heard something barrelling down the cobblestone, not even a deaf man couldn¡¯t miss it. I looked up. To no surprise of my own, it was the chestnut-haired man from two nights before.


    ¡°You have it right?¡±


    ¡°Good morning to you too.¡± I huffed. I grabbed the vial from my basket. ¡°Yeah, I have it. Here.¡±


    He snatched it from my hands quickly. Without even looking at it he stuffed it into his breast pocket.


    ¡°I¡¯ll-I¡¯ll never forget this, my lady!¡± He bowed deeply, nearly breaking himself in half, then wiped his eyes. He almost began to run back down the cobblestone before he whirled around back towards me. ¡°Oh, yes. Before I forget; He handed me a small cardboard box. I flipped it over and read the weathered label: PLAYING CARDS.


    ¡°Oi¡¯ I go and make you a lifesaver and the way you repay is a lousy box of cards?¡± I questioned as I waved the box in his face.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± He squeaked out pushing his hair out of his face. ¡°I¡¯m a bit short on money you see.¡±


    ¡°I can see that.¡± I huffed.


    ¡°Oh, but those aren¡¯t any regular cards.¡± He stated wagging his finger in front of my nose. ¡°Only a few other editions of those exist you see! It¡¯s been passed down in my family for generations!¡±


    ¡°Oh. Thanks.¡± I still didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°How I¡¯ve distracted myself! I better get back to my dearest Monica right away!¡± Before I could say anything else he was already halfway down the street.


    ¡°Goodbye then¡­¡± I put the cards in the basket. Perhaps I could pawn them somewhere.


    It was unusually sunny. Rays of light peaked through the clouds. Both men and women alike were out for entertainment and errands. The laughter and chatter echoed through the streets. It¡¯s been two days since the chestnut-haired man set off with the medicine. I have been not so patiently awaiting his return. Today I walked around the park. Good weather is to not be wasted. I sat on a bench and watched the swans in the nearby pond. The water was crystal clear. The sun ricocheted off of it, giving it the appearance of stained glass. My view was quickly ruined as a man in a grey suit stepped right in front of me. I sighed. I didn¡¯t need to look up to know who it was.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°My dear lady. He bowed, tipping his newly acquired bowler hat at me. You saved her. You did it!¡± He seized me by my shoulders and shook me violently.


    ¡°Glad I could help,¡± I answered with a nervous smile as I was afraid he was to burst into tears any second.


    ¡°The night I gave her the medication, she slept without a single fit of violent coughs. The next morning she was able to eat breakfast. And that afternoon she got up to water the flowers! Ever since the night of the medicine. She¡¯s been steadily recovering. Like magic!¡± To punctuate his last sentence he shook me by the shoulders again. My neck began to feel sore.


    ¡°Again, glad I could help.¡± I smoothed out my blouse. My stomach felt like fireworks. My medicine saved a person? I looked up at his shining emerald eyes and annoyingly big smile and couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of pride.


    ¡°Oh!¡± He jumped up. Seemingly a bit embarrassed. ¡°I just realized I never caught your name!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Mayla.¡±


    ¡°Mayla¡­ Well, I¡¯m Adam. Adam Clarke.¡±


    ¡°Nice to formally meetcha¡¯ Adam.¡± He quieted himself.


    ¡°Thank you. So much, Mayla. I wish I could thank you.¡±


    ¡°A few pounds would suffice.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡± He pinched his chin like he was thinking something over. ¡°Say, how old are you?¡±


    ¡°I dunno.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡± He said again. He squatted and stared into my eyes intensely. I leaned back into the bench. ¡°How about I offer you something better than money.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°A job!¡±


    ¡°I thought you said better.¡±


    He huffed at me and crossed his arms. ¡°You can make much money with a job!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know you and you are already offering me a job. It¡¯s legal right?¡±


    ¡°Of course it''s legal! Who do you think I am?¡±


    ¡°A crazed man harassing a little girl.¡±


    ¡°Hmph!¡± He stood back up and scowled at me. ¡°I¡¯m a detective I¡¯d have you know.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly believable,¡± I said, crossing my arms back at him.


    ¡°No really! I want you to be my assistant! Have you heard of forensics?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Well!¡± His eyes shone once again. He seemed happy to explain it to me. ¡°It¡¯s an up-and-coming method to solve crimes. Using evidence such as fingerprints, footprints, blood samples, and more! They are analyzed in a lab to find out how and why a crime was committed. And by whom!¡±


    ¡°And you want me to?¡±


    ¡°Become a forensic scientist! Or my forensic scientist! Together we will be an unstoppable duo!¡± I eyed him suspiciously.


    ¡°Attention to detail, patience, a strong moral compass. You¡¯d be perfect!¡±


    ¡°How would you know? I barely know you!¡±


    ¡°Not many people would attempt to save the life of the wife of a stranger who grabbed them on the street. Just give it a chance. When¡¯s the next time you''re going to get a job offer such as this.¡±


    I pushed him away with my foot.


    ¡°You are one annoying man! I didn¡¯t know what forensics was until a few seconds ago and now you want me to become a forensic scientist?¡± He laughed deeply.


    ¡°I must sound crazy to you, huh? Maybe This will be the worst decision of both our lives, but we will never know until we try right? You can trust me. What kind of man would I be to screw over the women who saved my dear Monica?¡±


    I thought about this deeply. My life has never gone the way I wanted. Time after time again I was met with misfortune. I was thrown away by society. Most days nobody would even glance at me. But a man offers me a job. Suspicious or not would it be smart to turn him down? I had nothing to lose. Nothing to protect.


    I looked back up at his face. This time his expression was stone and serious.


    ¡°You make a compelling case, Detective! You have an office, don¡¯t you? Let me see how legit you really are. Let me meet your Dear Monica. Then I¡¯ll make the decision.¡± I played with my hair and watched the pure glee appear on his face.


    ¡°Certainly!¡± He squealed. ¡°I¡¯ll hail us a cab!¡± He barreled through the park, towards the street. Almost knocking down a young man.


    ¡°Watch where you are going my dear man. Or are you in such a hurry you¡¯ve forgotten basic manners?¡±


    ¡°Sorry!¡± Adam yelled back at him. ¡°I got a new assistant!¡±

 The Ivy and the Orchid

    His office was much neater than I thought it would be. Books lined the many maple shelves. Stacks of paper were piled on his desk. Behind it was a huge window overlooking the city. Overhead, a small iron fan cooled the room. The white walls were clean. Occasionally dotted by a few paintings of mountains and rivers. Adam untied his tie and took off his hat, hanging it on a nearby coat rack.


    ¡°Well?¡± He said proudly, hands on his hips.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse,¡± I stated simply as I ran my index finger across the weathered spine of many books. Adam sat down at his desk and looked up at me. That smile seemed permanently carved into his face.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had this office for ten years now. I bought it with Monica. Before I worked for fifteen years as a secretary for the yard.¡±


    ¡°Good lord! How old are you?¡±


    He looked at me a bit angrily. ¡°Fourty-five! Not that you need to know, child! We should be talking about you! You are supposed to be my new assistant but all I know about you is your first name.


    ¡°First name is all I got. I gave it to myself you know. I never knew my parents. Left me on the streets as soon as I was born. An orphanage picked me up. Wasn¡¯t no good though. Nobody cared about nobody. I left. But I realized sitting on the streets didn¡¯t make money so I decided to become a herbalist. I¡¯ve always liked plants. They don¡¯t leave you.¡±


    His smile was, in fact, not permanent. His face turned rose red as he stuttered out an apology.


    ¡°O-oh I¡¯m so sorry! I didn¡¯t know! I-uh.¡±


    Guilt trip successful!


    ¡°Now that we know each other maybe I should meet that totally existing wife of yours. Marie, was it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Monica! And she is real! But she¡¯s not here. I can take you to my flat but not for long. She¡¯s still sick you know. Can¡¯t have my new assistant dying on me.¡±


    I stepped out of the carriage and onto the damp street.


    ¡°It¡¯s down here.¡± Adam pointed to a nearby winding pathway that led to a tall gray house. I walked along the back path. Small puddles of rainwater filled the dimples in the concrete. In a one-sided race with Adam, I ran down the path, jumping over the occasional worm. Finally, I was at the house. I peered upward. A grand Victorian house stood proudly. Metal-framed glass windows speckled the front and sides of the house. Lush green ivy crept up the front porch and around the stone columns supporting the roof. Rainwater rolled off the shingles into the nearby bushes.


    ¡°Not too shabby.¡± I spat with my arms crossed.


    ¡°Like it do ya¡¯?¡± Adam smirked. He grabbed a pair of keys out of his breast pocket and opened the door with a ¡°click!¡±


    The interior was a bit less grand. In the middle of the front room sat Adam¡¯s desk, littered with papers. Behind it, shelves were blanketed with books and trinkets.


    ¡°Why do you have a monocle?¡± I question, spinning the golden chain at the end of the small glass circle.


    ¡°Hands off!¡± Adam replied swiftly. Obediently, I put down the monocle. And replace it with a small wooden picture frame. In it, was a young Adam and a woman who I assumed to be his wife. Neither was smiling.


    ¡°¡®This the wife?¡±


    ¡°Ah yes¡­¡± He took the frame out of my hand and stared at it with an unreadable expression. Soon later, he placed it back down on the shelf. ¡°Wanna meet the real thing?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m here for no?¡±


    He ushered me to a door, on the farthest left of the shelf. The door, although visibly old, was decorated with a faux flower wreath. It opened with a creak.


    This room had a much different vibe than the last one. The cream walls are decorated with flowers contrasted with the black-painted walls of the main room. A fragrance of lavender filled the room. On a white wooden framed bed, a woman sat against the headboard. She peered lazily out the large window. Clutching an extensive blanket, also covered with flowers to her stomach. She turned slowly when she heard the door open. She looked at me. Golden coils fell from her head to the middle of her back. Short bangs framed her face. I examined her eyes. Tired azure eyes that appeared to go right through me. Her lips were a pale pink and her cheeks were gaunt. Her delicate light link-laced gown, like her, seemed it would be reduced to ash from a single just of wind. I didn¡¯t miss her shaky hand as she brought it up to her chin as she questioned Adam.


    ¡°Is this the girl?¡± She whispered out. As it pained her to talk.


    ¡°It is.¡±


    They shared a dubious glance with an expression I couldn¡¯t quite figure out. I looked up at Adam, back down at Monica, Then back up at Adam. Thankfully, the sick woman broke the silence.


    ¡°You are not quite what I expected.¡± She hummed with a questioning tone. I replied with a nervous laugh as I couldn¡¯t figure out whether it was an insult, compliment, or a simple observation. Her face shifted slightly. ¡°Ah, I suppose I should thank my savior, my guardian angel.¡±


    I slapped my fists against my hips and got into my former disposition. ¡°I suppose you should!¡± She laughed airly then reached out a pale thin hand towards me. On one of her long slender was a silver ring with a sapphire gemstone implanted in the middle. She slipped it off and handed it to me.


    ¡°Here you are, sweetest. Take good care of this now.¡±


    I was taken aback ¡°Woah, lady! Aren¡¯t you already married?¡± She clenched her stomach and laughed once again.


    ¡°You caught a good one, Adam!¡± She chirped. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s just a present. It''s priceless so don¡¯t think about pawning it now.¡± She must have read my mind.


    ¡°Sure, fine.¡± I slipped the ring on my thumb, the only finger it could fit on snuggly. Monica smiled at me once more then addressed Adam.


    ¡°Adam, dear, be a sweetheart and get this sweet girl some new clothes. And a bath if she wants. Some of my old clothes will do. Can never do too much for my savior!¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He answered. He turned on his heels. Come along, Mayla. I began to walk out of the room when her small voice stopped me.


    ¡°Oh, and dear.¡± I turned back around. ¡°I heard you are a herbalist. Maybe once I get better we can go flower picking!¡±


    I smiled at her. ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±


    I swiped my finger across the frosted mirror and scrutinized at my reflection. It had been years since I took a real bath, let alone a warm one. I barely recognized myself without dirt and grime covering my face. My hair appeared lighter and much longer when it was cleaned and brushed out. It almost shined as it billowed down my back. I seized the white gown Monica left for me and reached it over my head. Miraculously, it fit almost perfectly. This was the first time in my life that I had fitting clothes. Even in the orphanage, we sported old clothes donated by the pitying strangers we would never see again. I thought of Monica. She seemed much healthier than the first time Adam described her. I still couldn¡¯t believe I was able to save a person¡¯s life. Let alone such a stand-up woman as herself. Even then, I got a bit of a strange vibe from her.


    I opened the door. Once the fog cleared I saw Adam waiting awkwardly outside the bathroom. His arms were crossed and he stared at me. Shifting his weight from foot to foot.


    ¡°You done?¡± He coughed


    ¡°Nope still in the bath.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± He replied. Not too amused. ¡°We have our first order of business tomorrow so sleep well.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± I bowed my head quickly at him and turned to leave.


    ¡°Here of course!¡± He added when he saw me turn to the exit. ¡°Can¡¯t have my new assistant sleeping on the street! ¡®Got a room set for you already.¡± He put his arm out signalling to a door similar to Monica¡¯s.


    ¡°How convenient¡­¡±


    I opened the door. The room was very similar to Monica¡¯s. Same wall color, same bed, same blanket. The only thing missing were the blossoms on the walls and the large window. Instead substituted with a smaller stained glass one in front of the bed. Additionally, a rudimentary clock was suspended by the side of the bed.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be staying here.¡± He declared, fiddling with his breast pocket.


    ¡°Cool!¡± I jumped in the bed. It was considerably more comfortable than the orphanage one. I rubbed the white-flowered blanket straight then looked up at Adam. He was leaning on the doorframe, his head angled towards the stained glass. He was quiet. Much more quiet than in previous days.


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    ¡°Tomorrow is very important. My boss has yet to meet you ya¡¯ know. One false move and you''re out of a job and I get a talking-to.¡±


    ¡°¡®Course.¡±


    ¡°Well then, goodnight!¡± Adam pushed himself from the doorway and strode towards his room, a separate one from Monica¡¯s. I lied down in the bed and then peered at the clock. 7:00 P.M. Hardly time to go to bed, but it seemed as if Adam wanted to rid of me for the night.


    ¡°Just hold still!¡± Adam squeezed the strings of the corset once more and knocked the air out of me.


    ¡°Stop it, you stupid man! I¡¯m not wearing it!¡± I swatted him away.


    ¡°I already told you if you wanna go you have to make a good impression!¡± Adam snapped as he was catching his breath. Coincidentally, there was a company target that night, which he and his boss were expected to attend, being the ideal time to introduce me to his boss.


    ¡°I¡¯m not wearing this stupid outfit!¡± I picked at the snow-white untied corset and similarly colored puffy skirt. I could scarcely breathe or move. I felt like a doll.


    ¡°You want to appear like a dignified woman don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    Adam sighed for perhaps the hundredth time that morning and pitched the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°It¡¯s only for tonight. Can¡¯t you just do this for me?¡±


    I huffed. ¡°Saving your wife isn¡¯t enough?¡±


    ¡°This is for you remember! I could always leave you here! Or even back you off on the streets!¡± It seems I was running my luck. So after a kick and a whine, I resolved to tighten the corset and suck it up.


    ¡°Happy now?¡±


    ¡°Not yet. You still need your hair done and the bonnet, remember?¡±


    I wished I just stayed on my quilt.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s see how you look, sweetest!¡± Monica was still on the road to steady recovery. Even offering to do my hair. As a street kid, I never had the reason nor supplies to get dressed up. She passed me her golden mirror and I peered in. She coiled my rosy hair in a way much like hers and arranged it in buns on each side of my head. She left a few sections to hang down and frame my face.


    ¡°That shall do for right now. Especially if you are to wear a hat over it.¡± Monica placed the baby blue silk bonnet on my head tied the rose pink ribbons under my chin and clapped her hands in satisfaction. ¡°There! A beautiful and proper woman!¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied with fake sincerity.


    ¡°Of course sweetest!¡± Her sapphire eyes become serious. ¡°You still have that ring I gave you right?¡±


    ¡°Yes? It¡¯s only been a day.¡± Her sharp expression melted.


    ¡°Great! It¡¯ll match your outfit perfectly!¡± The marigold-haired lady patted me on the shoulder. ¡°Well try to have as much fun as you can.¡± She yawned. ¡°Don¡¯t let Adam make you do anything you don¡¯t want to do. Your gut is your best asset you know.¡±


    ¡°Uh, ok. I¡¯ll try.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± She muttered turning back towards her window. As I could tell I overstayed my welcome I left swiftly and entered the main room. Golden rays crept through the window and reflected off Adam¡¯s finished desk where he was meticulously buried in paperwork, looking up at me when he heard my footsteps on the frosted marble floor. He looked up at my silken harvest bell bonnet and down at my azalea-colored lace-up boots.


    ¡°She dressed you up nice.¡± He noted as he wiped the ink off the bottom of his left hand with a black handkerchief.


    I placed my hands on my hips. ¡°I¡¯m done now.¡± I spit out. ¡°Can we go?¡±


    ¡°Manners, little girl.¡± He warned while standing up from his chair. As he towered over me, I couldn¡¯t help but notice he got dressed up as well. His bronze hair was carefully combed backward. A few unruly strands framed his chiseled face. His sharp jade eyes no doubt allured the gazes of many. Draped in one of his seemingly thousands of grey-tailored suits and black tie that perfectly hugged his figure with a newly acquired gold chain hanging out one of his back pockets. His strong jawline and smile appeared to be chiseled in stone, and decorated his face, along with his straight nose and pale lips. It pains me to admit he is quite a handsome man.


    ¡°Ha! Enjoying the view?¡±


    ¡°Hardly. Let¡¯s go.¡± In fake politeness, Adam held open the door for me, while he grabbed his hat off the nearby hook. He ushered me out and followed closely behind.


    Once again, the carriage dropped us off on a winding path. Like the house, The hall was overly immense to fit on the front street. By the time we arrived, the sun had positioned below the horizon. The sky was a pinkish-violet as a cloak of black swallowed the top of the sky. Adam and I walked on the cobblestone path. Flowering trees blanket the stones in milk-white petals. Even from back here, we could hear the chatter and music inside the hall. After walking hand-and-hand in complete silence I decided to address something that¡¯s been on my mind for a while.


    ¡°So. Do you let all street urchins you find sleep in your home and work for you without a proper education or interview?¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    I sighed. Apparently, he was going to make this difficult.


    ¡°I truly appreciate the gesture. I do.¡± I told him. ¡°But level with me. Why am I really here?¡± Adam laughed in an unhumorous tone.


    ¡°I needed an assistant and you seemed capable. What else is there to say?¡± He oppugned, rather harshly.


    I sighed again. Regret crept slowly up my back. This is suspicious. This is all suspicious. I shouldn¡¯t have let hope blind me.


    I stepped in front of him so he could walk no further. ¡°Look, Adam. Either you are an idiot for inviting a homeless girl you¡¯ve known for less than a fortnight to work for you and sleep in your house or I¡¯m an idiot for not realizing something was off soon.¡±


    I looked him in his sharp ivy eyes. ¡°I have no detective or forensics training. Not even a proper education for god¡¯s sake. I met you, what? Perhaps a week ago? You said yourself that if I make a bad impression on your boss, which I surely will, we¡¯d both get in trouble. So what is your endgame here?¡±


    Adam looked away for several moments. Thinking how to explain it to me, or perhaps a lie. ¡°You¡¯re right. I should have told you sooner, but the yard told me to stay quiet.¡± He sighed out. ¡°Crime has gone way up, employment has gone down. We are shortstaffed in perhaps the biggest crime crisis in decades. We could use any help we get.¡± He looked back up at me with his trademark smile. ¡°And I couldn¡¯t possibly let a little girl sleep alone on the streets could I?¡±


    ¡°I''ve heard nothing of a crime crisis. And I¡¯d be one of the first to know don¡¯t you think? They must not be very good criminals if they haven¡¯t even mugged a defenseless street girl!¡± I countered.


    ¡°We were sworn to secrecy as I said. If every citizen knew there would be a bit of an uproar, yes?¡±


    I was silent. This was obviously the most I was to get out of him at the moment.


    ¡°Right, of course,¡± I muttered. I let him through.


    We continued walking in silence.


    A doorman opened the door for us. As soon as he did I was met with the flash of a dozen glass chandeliers, the fragrance of expensive food and fancy perfume, and live music. A woman in a stunning red dress, backed by men in black suits holding saxophones played an enchanting tune I¡¯d never heard. Glass statues, Glass pitchers, glass lighting, there were even women wearing glass heels. I was terrified if I took another step, I would accidentally shatter something. The tall ceiling was decorated with a painting that was reminiscent of those fancy Italian paintings. The floor was checkered marble in which I could see my reflection. The walls, the same red as the woman¡¯s dress were speckled with candle holders, intricate paintings of oceans, and a stained glass window in the front of the venue. Elderly couples danced and swooned while the younger ones, including bachelors and bachelorettes, ate lavish feasts fit for royalty. In engaged in lively conversations or played poker with cards that seemed to cost a limb a piece. If only Adam had given me one of those sets instead. After I was done taking in the sights I looked at Adam, who was fiddling with his pocketchain, seemingly unimpressed, as this was a daily occurrence.


    ¡°I think I figured out why you guys are so understaffed,¡± I yelled at him over the music the sound of forks and knives clashing fine china. ¡°You guys are spending all your funds on weird, unnecessary parties instead of actually paying people proper wages!¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer me. Either he didn¡¯t hear me or didn¡¯t want to address the truth of my words.


    I looked around, unsure of what to do next. I settled on going to grab one or ten plates of food until Adam foiled my plans.


    ¡°Well, we should go find my boss.¡± He said peering around.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what he looks like do it yourself.¡± I reactivated my food plans and began to walk away.


    ¡°We are here so you can meet him, remember?¡± He said through gritted teeth.


    Luckily we didn¡¯t have to look far until a voice boomed ¡°Clarke!¡± Ten times louder than the music. Adam and I both flinched as we turned around. For a second I thought someone turned the light off. Instead, an enormous man towered over me like a century-old oak tree. His burly arms, crossed at his chest were covered in thick brown hair. As I looked up as far as my neck would let me, I could see his face had just the same amount of hair. Thick umber sideburns and a full machu mustache covered his brick face. Short similarly covered curls blanketed his head with hints of grey. He wore a white sweater rolled up at the sleeves, for as I assumed couldn¡¯t fit over his arms with a brown vest. His black dress pants seemed as if they could fit a gorilla. His black dress shoes were possibly the only average thing about this man.


    ¡°How the heck are ya?¡± He laughed out in such a volume I worried about the condition of my ears.


    ¡°Good sir,¡± Adam mumbled out. As I looked over, even Adam seemed like an ant compared to him.


    ¡°Hahaha!¡± The giant man barked out as he slapped Adam on the back in painful-looking force. ¡°Quiet as always!¡±


    Adam, quiet?


    ¡°And who¡¯s this lovely lady?¡± He asked gleefully turning his attention to me. I braced for impact.


    ¡°Mayla, sir.¡± I almost whispered. I then understood Adam¡¯s change in behavior.


    ¡°Ah! The one you were talking about is it?¡± He asked turning back to Adam.¡±


    ¡°Yup.¡±


    His tone shifted slightly. ¡°Hopefully she¡¯s as adept as you claim.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Adam answered.


    ¡°Oh! I supposed I should introduce myself!¡± He chirped smiling at me. ¡°I''m Otis Ironheel. But that¡¯s Chief Ironheel to you.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Chief!¡± I barked out.


    ¡°So.¡± Ironheel breathed out in the same odd tone as before. ¡°First order of business, Clarke?¡±


    ¡°Same as you told me, sir.¡±


    This was getting too cryptic to my liking.


    ¡°Good, good.¡± The burly man replied, leaning back on his heels. ¡°If everything¡¯s on track then I have nothing else to tell you. But Cecil might.¡± Ironheel sneered. Adam¡¯s face shifted into an expression I¡¯d never seen on him.


    I was completely lost.


    ¡°I believe I saw him on the deck somewhere.¡± The chief stated, motioning his head to a glass door in the far right of the room. ¡°But I¡¯ve got business to attend to. See you soon, Clarke. And you, little lady!¡± He laughed waving at me. He walked towards the dining area. Lucky.


    As I was building up the courage to ask Adam what in God¡¯s name that was about he walked wordlessly to the deck. I supposed I should follow.

 Under the Moonlight

    It was much colder outside than when we arrived. There was only one other man on the deck. He sat at an iron garden table, overlooking the distant London through the metal fence. I supposed he heard our footsteps as he looked up as soon as we arrived. The darkness obscured his face slightly. Even then, I could hardly miss his crystal blue eyes and ink-black hair styled in curtain bangs. His fair skin, high cheekbones, and sharp square jaw even opposed Adam¡¯s appearance. His deep eyes and slightly turned lips displayed what seemed to be a slightly pained expression. Or perhaps he was deep in thought. He wore a sleek black fedora and brown waistcoat over a striped suit. His grey dress pants were tucked into ink-leathered boots that reflected the moonlight. He pushed up a pair of gray circular glasses as we approached. It was several moments before anyone spoke.


    ¡°Adam.¡±


    ¡°Cecil¡±


    Silence fell over us again. This time greeted with a thick blanket of tension. This time I took the liberty of breaking it.


    ¡°I¡¯m Mayla, Adam¡¯s new assistant!¡± I announced offering him my hand. Surprised as I was, he actually took it.


    ¡°Oh, right. I was quickly briefed on your situation.¡± He spoke in a smooth slow voice.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Adam added awkwardly ¡°She¡¯s to be a forensics scientist.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Frustratingly, everyone grew quiet once again. I desperately tried to think of something to say but I thought of nothing.


    ¡°How¡¯s Monica?¡±


    ¡°Same as usual.¡±


    Silence.


    Adam began to speak. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since we last met you know. But it seemed you haven¡¯t changed much.¡± He sighed, placing his hands on his hips.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± The man laughed dryly. ¡°If I recall the last time we met was, what? The wedding I suppose?¡±


    Adam was silent. The black-haired man took this as his sign to continue.


    ¡°Oh, how happy you two were, or at least seemed to be.¡± He sneered. Adam¡¯s face twisted.


    ¡°I was quite surprised really. You never seemed to be the type to throw everything away for something, something so trivial.¡±


    Hm?


    ¡°But I suppose it was inevitable, wasn¡¯t it?¡± The man leaned on his hands. ¡°But, I wonder if you regret everything. I know I do.¡± He turned to me. ¡°Or perhaps I shouldn¡¯t be saying this in front of your new assistant? Knowing you I would assume she¡¯s in the dark on this whole situation.¡±


    I had no idea what was going on and I had a feeling I didn¡¯t want to know.


    Adam was still silent. The man observed Adam¡¯s expression and let off his line of questioning.


    ¡°Maybe I should introduce myself to you, girl. I¡¯m Cecil Hans. By all means, just call me Cecil.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Cecil.¡± I lied.


    Cecil smiled at me until turning his attention back to Adam. ¡°


    It¡¯s been years, Adam. We have quite a lot of business to discuss. Why don¡¯t we meet at my apartment after his party?¡± He asked with an unreadable tone.


    ¡°Y-you know I can¡¯t do that.¡± Adam choked out. ¡°And please, not in front of the girl.¡±


    Cecil glanced quickly at me. ¡°Of course.¡± He smirked. ¡°Maybe when you¡¯re alone.¡± He hummed. Cecil leaned back. ¡°If this is all you have, Adam you might want to leave before the fledgling arrives. He¡¯s a bit of¡­¡± Cecil thought about his words. ¡°An acquired taste.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Adam replied. ¡°Shall we go?¡± I could tell it wasn¡¯t a true request so I followed him back to the main deck.


    As we slid open the glass door the sound of chatter and singing resumed. There was an obvious change in Adam¡¯s demeanor and I debated whether to get into it.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°We should get going,¡± Adam said through pressed lips.


    ¡°Right.¡± Perhaps Monica would know something. As I followed Adam to the exit I was stopped by a tree-trunk arm slapped me on the shoulder and I knew instantly who it was.


    ¡°One moment if you may. You¡¯re free to go Clarke!¡± Ironheel boomed. Adam was hesitant, but soon nodded and headed outside.


    The giant man smiled, turned around, and motioned me to follow. For a man his size, he walked quite fast. I had to hold up my alabaster skirt to keep up. He led up winding iron stairs and out to a balcony, overlooking the lights of the city. He leaned on the metal fence, sighed, and then turned around at me, who was standing suspiciously in the doorway.


    ¡°Did ya¡¯ need something?¡± The chief turned around again briefly and faced me once more.


    ¡°I do.¡± He handed me a white sack. I eyed him, then peeked inside. To my ultimate shock, it was full of gold and silver coins. Before I could get a word out he turned and said to me seven words.


    ¡°Be my eyes. You¡¯ll understand soon.¡± Without another exchange, he descended the stairs leaving me in awe. I didn¡¯t know what to do, but something told me Adam shouldn¡¯t know about this. I untied my knee-high boots and smushed the sack into it as I did with herbs I didn¡¯t want to carry in my basket. After tightening it as best as I could there was a noticeable bulge in my shoe. I dropped my skirt and prayed for the best. I let out a deep sigh and began to walk back down to the main floor. Perhaps taking this ¡°job¡± was the worst decision of my life.


    As I opened the golden double doors to the front lawn I peered around and noticed Adam leaning against a nearby tree. His grey suit and dark hair blended in well with his equally dark surroundings. His hand was held to his sharp chin, his brown eyebrows furrowed in thought. I walk towards him through the damp grass. He did not acknowledge me. I had so many questions in my head to ask him I didn¡¯t know what to start with, luckily he interrupted my thoughts.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get going. Monica¡¯s been home all day.¡± The carriage ride back was just as quiet as the one there.


    The house is a bit less breathtaking at night. There is no sun to peak through the huge window lighting up the coal-black walls. You could no longer see your reflection on the white marble floor. A small gas lamp sat on Adam¡¯s desk, oddly its flame survived the several hours we were gone. Adam tiredly untied his tie and placed his hat on the oak hook by the door. He quickly beelined to his bedroom, not uttering a word to me as he passed. As soon as I heard the ¡°click!¡± of the lock on his door I ran as fast as I could to the park.


    I desperately wished I waited until the morning, but this was business I had to attend to right away. I stumbled my way through the darkness, gripping my skirt and pulling it out of the mud. Luckily I had time to remove my corset and deposit my bonnet, unfortunately changing my skirt was a bit too time-consuming and I¡¯ve become quite fond of the boots. The thick fog makes the flickering lights of the streetlights obsolete. The moon was reduced to a soft white light obscured by the clouds and blankets of fog. Thankfully, living on the streets for long as I had you could find your way to your destination blindfolding and handcuffed.


    I heard the light swishing of the pond and the singing of the crickets and knew I was at the park. I got on my hands and knees, in my head apologizing to Monica for dirtying her skirt, searching through wet grass for the spot I was looking for. Finally, my hands rubbed over a cool patch of spongy moss. I took the silk sack of coins out of my shoe and dug a hole forearm deep. I placed the sack in snuggly and placed the moss back over it. I sighed, a weight off my shoulders. Although tempting, I¡¯m sure Adam and Monica would be suspicious if I finally came up with enough money to feed all three of us for years. As I piled the moss back on I brushed what I originally thought was a dead leaf. But after further inspection, it was a muddy piece of paper. I held it up to the sad flame of the nearby streetlight. There were words written on it in black ink, slightly run by the dew on the grass. I had no hope of reading it here. I stuck it in my trusty boot satisfied, brushing the grass and dirt off my hands until I came to the blowing realization I¡¯d have to find myself back at Adam¡¯s house which I was a lot less familiar with.


    Adam lay still in the bed. He was exhausted. His head swam, mind turbulent with forbidden thoughts. Regret, betrayal. He thought about him. Skin against skin, teeth against teeth. He thought about how he left. How he lied. The room suddenly became too hot. Adam slipped a black sweater over his head and went to the main room. He plopped down at his desk, hands against his forehead.


    ¡°Maybe when you''re alone.¡±


    He hated himself for lying to the girl, but it was safer this way. Adam took a folded note out of his breast pocket and read it over for the hundredth time.


    If you¡¯ve changed your mind about one thing or the other; The usual place.-C


    Finally, all his lies and all his regrets would not be in vain.


    I staggered, gasping for air, and frantically brushed the mud off my skirt. The narrow pathway back to the house seemed to be littered with more stones than I remembered. Steeling myself, I pushed open the grand door slowly, wincing at the prolonged creaking of its hinges. My heart raced as I silently prayed that Adam and Monica were sound asleep. However, to my horror, Adam was seated at his desk, his gaze filled with confusion and suspicion fixed on me, his expression stern and unwavering.


    "What are you doing?" His voice sliced through the tense silence, demanding an explanation.


    My mind raced as I desperately tried to conjure up a convincing lie. Would he believe me?


    ¡°Taking a walk. That party. It was a bit much.¡± I saw a slither of paper clutched in his left hand. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Perfect! Take the attention off me and put it on him.


    ¡°I, uh, couldn¡¯t sleep.¡± He stammered, withdrawing the paper deeper into his fist, hiding behind his finger. ¡°It¡¯s too late to be out you know. Many dangerous people roaming about.¡± He said awkwardly. He ran a hand through chestnut locks. ¡°You ought to get to bed.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Well, you too.¡± I mumbled why shifting my feet


    ¡°Hm.¡± He observed me. Clearly expecting to leave first. Hesitantly, I trodded off to my room. When I closed the door, I put my ear against it, listening and waiting. I did not hear him get up.

 Every Rose has its Thorns

    The morning was less tense than the previous night. Monica, who had been confined for months, was now moving about with a renewed sense of freedom. Her golden curls danced behind her as she hurried from room to room, overjoyed to be on her feet again.


    "Look at the floor! Look at the walls! How wonderful it feels to be walking again!" I found myself tucked into a corner near one of Adam¡¯s shelves filled with trinkets, feeling slightly apprehensive about being caught in the path of Monica''s exuberance. Suddenly, she grabbed my hands with unconceivable strength and spun me around for several dizzying seconds before abruptly halting, nearly knocking me to the floor.


    "Quiet! I just remembered Adam is still asleep," Monica gasped. Her excitement had momentarily made me forget about the events of the previous night. However, as I glanced over at Adam¡¯s empty desk, it was clear that he must have retired for the night at some point.


    ¡°Oh!¡± Monica clasped her porcelain hands together. ¡°I should make breakfast!¡±


    I dropped my spoon, unable to possibly fit another crumb of food into my stomach. To my dismay, Monica dumped a fourthf helping of eggs onto my plate.


    ¡°Surely this is enough!¡± I groaned.


    ¡°Humor me, sweetheart, it¡¯s been months since I¡¯ve been able to cook, even more for guests! That boy, he never eats anything I make! Says he doesn¡¯t have time. But that man slacks more than he works I say!¡± Monica looked out the window. ¡°It¡¯s getting awfully late, isn¡¯t it? The sun is almost completely overhead! Boy was he tired. I¡¯ll wake him up! She said with newfound glee, rushing to Adam¡¯s room with a plate of food in hand.


    I ran the rag over the glass china a final time and placed it in the rack.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Monica snapped. ¡°Make sure you get the back as well.¡± I sighed and picked the plate up.


    ¡°At this rate, we¡¯ll be here forever,¡± I mumbled.


    ¡°I heard that!¡± She growled. ¡°Just go you¡¯re doing it wrong anyway.¡± She huffed and took the plate out of my hand.


    ¡°Happily.¡±


    I strolled back to my room and plopped down on my creaky bed, the faded quilt beneath me offering little comfort. I gazed around the dimly lit room, the feeble light barely penetrating through the tattered curtains. My mind raced, searching for something to occupy it. Normally, I would be out in the streets, scavenging for precious herbs, but now it seemed I didn''t need to do that anymore. Lost in thought, I briefly considered visiting a boutique with Monica in order to get back on her good side, but then I remembered the crumpled piece of paper I had hastily stuffed in my boot the previous night. I swiftly retrieved the dirt-covered boot I had carelessly left by the door, and as I reached inside, my fingers brushed against the worn leather. I retrieved my prize¡ªthe crumpled piece of paper. With trembling hands, I carefully smoothed it out and began to read the faded words written on its surface.


    The knight of white ride with pride


    The king of the jungles is strong and true


    Swords clashing at their side


    Cannons roaring through the blue


    A lot of build-up for nothing. I groaned to myself and began to crumble it up for the rubbish bin.


    ¡°Love letter?¡± I heard Adam''s voice behind me. He stood over my crouched figure, wearing a black sweater from the previous night and chewing on an English muffin, his tousled brown hair falling over his forehead as he peered down at me.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s-¡± Adam took it out of my hands before I could object, reading it with childish curiosity. His face fell abruptly, replaced with a grave expression. He pivoted towards me.


    ¡°Where¡¯d you find this?¡± He demanded.


    ¡°On my walk yesterday,¡± I answered simply.


    ¡°The park. I found it in the grass.¡±


    Adam stared at me with an unreadable expression.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go walking around at night.¡± He stated in a sharp tone.


    ¡°Yeah. ¡®told me that last night. Speaking of which, where¡¯s the love letter you had last night? I wanna read it.¡± Adam left the room before he could answer.


    I shuffled the dog-eared playing card between my hands. My mind raced.


    ¡°How much longer will he lie to me?¡± I whispered to myself. I lay back down on the bed sighing, listening to the slow ticking of the clock until my daydreaming was interrupted by a ¡°hey-ay!¡± I looked up.


    ¡°Adam came this way didn¡¯t he?¡± Monica asked, absentmindly picking at the lace at the bottom of her sakura-colored dress.


    ¡°Yes. He did.¡± She must have sensed my discontent because she sat down next to me on the bed.


    ¡°Odd guy isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Very much so!¡± I groaned.


    Monica¡¯s gaze drifted down at the faded Magenta carpet, her mind was elsewhere. After a few moments, she looked up at me an inquisitive expression and began twirling her golden locks around her slender finger.


    ¡°So. Did you meet Cecil?¡±


    It turns out my theory was correct. Adam and the licorice-haired man did have a history. One that Monica knew about.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, amber eyes looking up into hers. ¡°At the party.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Monica hummed to himself. ¡°Did he¡­ Say anything to you? Or did anyone else at the party?¡±


    ¡°Nope, just to Adam.¡± I knitted my brows. Someone else did, however. Shall I tell her about that? I weighed out my options. How smart would it be to confine a secret to the wife of the man you are desperately trying to keep in the dark? However, something told me this would stay between just us.


    ¡°Ironheel gave me something that night.¡± Monica¡¯s eyes lit up with something between excitement and seriousness.


    ¡°And what might that be, my dear?¡±


    ¡°A bag of coins to be exact. He said something like ¡®Be my eyes.¡¯ Or something of the sort.¡±


    Monica¡¯s intense gaze met mine. After a few intense seconds, Monica broke out in an insincere smile.


    ¡°Well then! There¡¯s no point in playing stupid then is there? I''m sure there is something you want to ask me, or more accurately Adam but I¡¯d assume he won¡¯t answer truthfully would he? Lies are the pathway to destruction so I will be the first to tell you; that you are treading a dark path, sweetest, none of your fault however. Sooner or later you will have to make a choice, but remember; Some friends turn out to be fiends and some fiends turn out to be friends. Walk carefully, my dear.¡±


    I met her with such a dumbfounded expression that she audibly laughed and clasped me on the shoulder.


    ¡°But I suppose that still leaves some questions unanswered.¡± She put her index finger to her lips, her azure gaze fixated on me. ¡°Some I am not at liberty to answer, some, truthfully I don¡¯t know the answer to.¡± Her expression darkened. ¡°And I¡¯m sure Ironheel feels the same way based on his recent actions.¡± I tried to speak until she placed her other index finger on my lips and hushed me. ¡°First, let¡¯s discuss your first job.¡± She sighed out. ¡°Adam was supposed to tell you before his little breakdown. A noblewoman was murdered in her own home.¡±


    My gut wrenched. My first case was a murder?


    ¡°The prime suspect was a foreign student. The woman was murdered with a blunt object. The student had an object with the woman¡¯s DNA. As you can see, it¡¯s a pretty open-and-shut case, but nothing is that simple.¡± Monica stood up and walked towards the door. She shut it, hand still on the knob. ¡°You still have that ring?¡± She inquired. I lifted up my right hand, the ring was still snuggly placed on my thumb. ¡°Good. It¡¯s very important.¡± She began to open the door for her departure until she said, barely above a whisper; ¡°I said it once and I¡¯ll say it again; Don¡¯t let Adam make you do anything you don¡¯t want to. Trust your gut and check your back.¡±


    She opened the door and left without a goodbye.


    I sat on my bed, hands clutching my knees trying to take everything in.


    ¡°What am I here for? What is Adam planning? And why does Monica know about it?¡± Luckily, I¡¯ve always been a woman of action. Sitting around thinking won¡¯t get me an answer. With a deep sigh, I stood up and swung open my door.


    I strolled into the main room casually, trying to temporarily erase Monica and I¡¯s past interaction from my mind. Adam sat at his oak desk with his nose buried in the daily paper. I cleared my throat.


    ¡°Yes?¡± He questioned.


    I huffed. ¡°You know what! We have work to do but you got upset before you got around to telling me!¡± Adam was silent for a moment.


    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± He finally answered, lifting his head. ¡°That positively slipped my mind.¡±


    ¡°The trait of an exquisite detective¡­¡± I mumbled.


    Adam stood up from his desk and brought his long and tapered fingers to his chin.


    ¡°I¡¯d assume Monica¡¯s already briefed you on the situation?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I answered. ¡°A Noblewoman was allegedly murdered by a student.¡± Adam gave a dry laugh.


    ¡°Allegedly isn¡¯t the word I¡¯d use. The blunt object used to kill the lady was one of the student¡¯s person. Unless it walked there itself this is an open-and-shut case.¡±


    I thought about Monica¡¯s ominous words and chose my next words carefully.


    ¡°Then what are we needed for? If the crime was so obvious wouldn¡¯t the yard have arrested the student already?¡±


    Adam breathed out..


    ¡°Unfortunately it is not that easy.¡± Adam turned his gaze to meet mine. ¡°Although the lady was murdered due to a blunt object, according to the coroner, there was also poison deadly found in the noblewoman¡¯s body.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I said subconsciously. ¡°Why poison a person just to beat them to death and carry around the weapon?


    ¡°Yeah¡­ That¡¯s the odd thing.¡± Adam answered in an awkward tone. ¡°The poison used was cyanide.¡± I shrugged my shoulders, not understanding the significance. Adam took it as his cue to explain his reasoning. ¡°Did Monica mention she was a foreign exchange student?¡±


    I thought back to our conversation.


    ¡°Actually, yes I believe she did. But what relevance does it have?¡± Adam furrowed his brows.


    ¡°The student is from the Empire of Japan. I believe she¡¯s here to study engineering as England is leading the world in its new inventions and architecture you know.¡± Adam said with a hint of pride. ¡°She has only been here around two weeks, but the most important fact is that Cyanide is not available in Japan. At least to the public.¡±


    I finally understood. Adam continued.


    ¡°She would not have been able to obtain such a poison on her home country. Let alone sneak it all the way across the ocean. Furthermore, she has not been in England long enough to obtain such a thing. Not that she would be allowed to anyway. The government would think twice before handing over poison to a foreign student. Even then, she¡¯s an engineering student! What would she know about poison anyhow? The point is it doesn¡¯t add up.


    ¡°So the noblewoman could¡¯ve been murdered by someone else,¡± I asked.


    ¡°The woman was Lady Agatha Lotusburg. Beloved by her subjects. It would be unlikely for someone else to have the vendetta to murder such a high-standing woman.¡±


    ¡°Then why would a student who has no clue who she is murder her.¡± Adam seemed a bit impatient.


    ¡°We can speculate as long as we like but at the end of the day, she is the one with the murder weapon. The poison is irrelevant to the case, as she was killed before it had any effect.¡±


    ¡°It can hardly be considered irrelevant.¡±


    ¡°We arrest based on the facts, not by hypotheses.¡± He answered sharply. ¡°You will meet the suspect tomorrow. Save your questioning for then.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said through gritted teeth. ¡°Is there anything else?¡±


    ¡°Actually, there is.¡± He answered. ¡°Before we head to the holding station tomorrow we must stop by my office and the Yard. You need your uniform, badge, and official papers. Ironheel will be there so behave yourself and get up nice and early. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Adam sat back down at his desk and waved me away. I pinched the bridge of my nose. This man has the patience of a young child!


    I abruptly awoke at the crack of dawn by a fist on my side shaking me roughly. The scent of cologne reached my nose. I looked up. Adam was staring down at me with a stern expression on his face. He was dressed up in one of his pewter suits and meticulously combed hair. The expensive-looking gold chain was in his back pocket.


    ¡°What part of ¡®get up early¡¯ did you not understand?¡± He growled.


    I looked up at the clock. A half past four and I was still exhausted.


    ¡°Never mind that.¡± He groaned. ¡°Just get ready. Fast. It doesn¡¯t much matter what you wear as you¡¯ll be changing anyway.¡± With that, Adam rushed out of my bedroom and waited for me by the front entrance. I quickly slipped on my lace-up boots and brushed my hair back. And went to join Adam.

 A Peculiar Affair

    The atmosphere inside the carriage was enveloped in silence, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of the horse hooves and the steady roll of the wheels on the cobblestone road. As the carriage traversed the uneven terrain, my heavy eyelids repeatedly succumbed to drowsiness, only to be jolted awake each time the carriage hit a rough patch. I stole a glance at Adam, who sat across from me, his gaze fixed on the passing buildings outside the window. The soft glow of the streetlights cast a gentle light on his profile. His verdant eyes fluttered as well, The carriage gradually came to a stop outside the cream exterior of Adam¡¯s office. We jumped out and Adam put his gloved hand above the coachman¡¯s, dropping a few coins.


    Adam lugged up the damp stairs to the front entrance. He unlocked the black iron door and held it open for me as we entered. The lights were suddenly turned on and burnt my eyes. Once they adjusted, I saw Adam approach a black closet door with a deep sigh and open it. With a bit of rustling, he grabbed out what was supposed to be my uniform. A brown puffy dress with a corset and black leather heeled boots and white gloves with a small brown tophat, on top of which sat a pair of goggles. Assumingly for my future investigations.


    ¡°Just put this on. No arguments this time.¡± I couldn¡¯t argue even if I wanted to. I was much too tired. With a groan, I grabbed the outfit from his hands and went into the bathroom.


    I puffed up my skirt and laced up my boots then looked at my reflection. Besides the hat, it wasn¡¯t that bad. I left the bathroom to find Adam sitting at his desk, head resting on his hands.


    ¡°Are you done?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Yup,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Well then.¡± He lifted his head. All that¡¯s left is the head to Scotland Yard. This is the first time you have been here I¡¯d assume. Ironheel and the other detectives will be there so behave yourself.


    ¡°Is the four-eyed one you don¡¯t like gonna be there?¡± I hummed, bringing my finger to my chin. Adam looked caught off-guard.


    ¡°I-I¡¯m not sure. But you don''t have business with him anyhow.¡±


    The Yard was a bit misnamed. A huge white stone building stood over me, contrasting the black iron supports. Windows dotted the building on all sides, some dark with the curtains drawn. The large steep brown roof hung over the building creating a dark shadow over the courtyard dotted with people and hedges. The voices of bobbies and detectives drowned in the sound of the retreating carriage. A young serious-faced bobby approached Adam and I.


    ¡°Ironheel has requested your presence, Detective Clarke.¡±


    ¡°Of course. We¡¯ll be there right away.¡± The bobby retreated.


    ¡°Time to become an official forensic scientist!¡± I hummed as I followed Adam into the entrance of the building.


    As we entered the building I was met with the sound of men in their cubicles typing away at typewriters. The small white desks were blanketed in paper. On the floor, small cardboard boxes lined the legs of the desks, also filled with papers. Bobbies rushes room to room delivering messages and finished paperwork. I couldn¡¯t help up be grateful this wasn¡¯t the job I was offered.


    ¡°Come on.¡± Adam broke me out of my thoughts and led me up a flight of stairs.


    I gasped for air. The ¡°flight of stairs¡± turned out to be six. Even Adam leaned against the wall to catch his breath. I¡¯d hate to be the man who¡¯d have to climb up and down every day.


    ¡°His office should be down here.¡± Adam pointed down the carpeted hallway towards an office on the right.


    As we approached the door Adam knocked hesitantly. A soft thud and rustling were heard inside until the maple door was opened by the ample man


    ¡°Clarke!¡± He threw up his bulky arms. ¡°How the heck are ya¡¯?


    ¡°Fine,¡± Adam responded dryly.


    Ironheels strong gaze fell down unto me.


    ¡°Ah, young lady. All is well I hope?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± I nodded.


    Ironheel suddenly clasped his enormous paw on Adam¡¯s shoulder,


    ¡°How rude of me to keep you two waiting! Come in! Cecil, put the tea on if you may.¡±


    The color from Adam¡¯s face drained the mention of the man¡¯s name. As I entered the room I was met by the strong scent of cologne and the sight of the man from the previous night. He wore the same black hat with a charcoal tuxedo. His coffee coat was deposited on a nearby iron coat rack. After setting down the tin kettle he turned slowly to meet Adam¡¯s distraught gaze.


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    ¡°How unexpected.¡± He said with a hint of amusement. Adam didn¡¯t respond.


    Cecil turned around and began humming to himself as he grabbed teacups.


    ¡°Ah, sit down, sit down!¡± The chief motioned to a nearby red velvet couch. Adam sat down and I sat down next to him. With a creak, Ironheel sat down in a similar colored loveseat. Not young after, the black-haired man came over placing a white porcelain tea cup in front us, winking at Adam. Adam inverted his gaze.


    ¡°So, did you hear about the situation?¡± He inquired.


    ¡°Yes. Lady Lotusburg¡­¡± I trailed on.


    Ironheel nodded gravely. ¡°Indeed. You shall meet the suspect today. A young student of the name Violet Yoshida. Twenty years of age I believe.¡± He motioned towards Cecil, who was leaning against Ironheel¡¯s desk. With a nod, he picked up a thick file off the neat pile of papers on the desk and handed it to Ironheel.


    Ironheel flipped through the file. ¡°Ah, yes. The cause of death was a hit on the head from a blunt object. Curiously they found traces of poison in the noblewoman¡¯s system. Cyanide to be exact.¡±


    ¡°But the student couldn¡¯t have aqquired the poison,¡± I added.


    Ironheel snapped his fingers in confirmation. ¡°Quite right. That¡¯s the kicker here.¡± Ironheel handed the file back to Cecil who placed it back in the designated spot on Ironheel¡¯s desk.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already explained this to her.¡± Adam stated timidly


    ¡°Ah! Then why not say so before, my good man?¡± Ironheel laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll shut my trap and let Hans explain the rest!¡±


    Oh boy.


    ¡°Of course, sir.¡± Cecil smiled. Adam did the opposite.


    Cecil stood by the door, waiting. Me and Adam followed him out.


    As we descended back down the stairs Cecil turned to me.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be examining the crime scene. Surely Adam told you that much?¡±


    ¡°Err, not yet.¡± I coughed. Adam winced.


    With an amused sigh, Cecil turned back around. ¡°Of course not. Before you talk to Miss Yoshida you need to examine the crime scene and any evidence of course. I¡¯ll accompany you as per my orders.¡± Adam took in a sharp breath and sped up to walk beside Cecil.


    ¡°When did the Chief say this? The crime scene was supposed to be taken care of!¡± Adam snapped in a harsh tone. Cecil seemed uninterested.


    ¡°Just a few minutes ago he was informed the rest of the Yard was done with the scene. Of course, forensic scientists need to examine the scene of crime. Surely you knew this?¡±


    ¡°Surely I did,¡± Adam replied harshly. ¡°As I was told, all relevant evidence was collected.¡±


    ¡°That will be for her to decide.¡± Cecil trailed off and began twisting his midnight hair around his finger.


    When we got outside Cecil turned to Adam.


    ¡°Won¡¯t you fetch us a cab, Adam?¡± He asked with fake politeness. Adam groaned but did as he was told.


    I looked up at the sky, putting my hand over my eyebrows to block the sun. It was an unusually sunny day. The nonstop sound of carriages rolling back over stone and forth and bobbies chatting in the courtyard filled my ears. The sky was a magnificent blue. Cecil was still humming to himself, completely ignoring my presence. Soon later, Adam returned with a cab just down the street.


    ¡°To the Lotusburg manor!¡± Cecil yelled to the coachman. We got into the carriage, I sat on the far end of the leather seats with Adam next to me. Cecil sat across from Adam on the opposite side. As the carriage drove down the street, I became increasingly aware of Adam¡¯s attempt to avoid Cecil¡¯s gaze, who stared right at him.


    ¡°So,¡± Cecil began. ¡°Excited to be back during fieldwork?¡±


    Adam turned towards the window. ¡°Of course.¡± He replied.


    Huh?


    ¡°You were absent?¡± I asked turning to him.


    Cecil answered for him. ¡°Oh yes. Quite a tumultuous matter regarding our old boss..¡±


    Another thing Adam didn¡¯t tell me about. Of course.


    ¡°Um, what happened with your old boss? Adam never told me anything related to this.¡± I said in a safe tone. Adam shot me a look.


    ¡°Hardly a surprise,¡± He laughed airly ¡°But I¡¯ve never been one to conceal the truth so I guess I will tell you he said flapping his hand.¡±


    Adam began to protest. ¡°Cecil, you know you shoul-¡±


    Cecil cut him off. ¡°Apparently, our previous boss, Chief Enfield was intentionally tampering with evidence and crime scenes to frame people she did not quite like or people who escaped the hands of the law or got a not guilty verdict which she believed they didn¡¯t deserve.¡± He looked at Adam with a peculiar smile. ¡°Allegedly, some of her coworkers helped. However,, no sufficient evidence was produced to solidify this theory. However, one of her coworkers was caught was tampered evidence. After claiming he didn¡¯t know, he was simply put off of field duty for three months.¡±


    ¡°And that was-¡±


    ¡°Your dear Adam, yes!¡± Cecil laughed, ice-blue eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°Surely he didn¡¯t know. You wouldn¡¯t do such a thing would you?¡± Cecil sneered.


    Adam''s gaze was fixated on him with a steely stare. ¡°It seems you missed a few important details, Cecil.¡± He retorted sharply.


    Cecil yawned. ¡°This discussion grows tiresome. We are almost to the manor anyhow.¡±


    I looked out the window. A large grand house was slowly approaching.


    ¡°Ah, and before I forget,¡± Cecil added as an afterthought. ¡°My new assistant will be here too. He will walk you through the crime scene as he¡¯s already been here. Me and Adam have some important things to discuss.


    Adam let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°Do we now?¡±

 Shadows of Allegiance

    The magnificent grand manor loomed majestically. Its sepia stone walls reached skyward, adorned with delicate snow-white stone accents that appeared to be carved by angels. Countless towers and turrets adorned the colossal exterior, resembling glistening icicles reaching toward the heavens. The manor was punctuated by numerous windows, each adorned with a striking blue hue. A meticulously manicured line of hedges framed the house, leading the way to the front door. I was no stranger to this house. The Lotusburgs were one of the most influential families and London. I¡¯ve seen many illustrations and heard many personal accounts about the house, however none of it prepared me to see it with my own eyes.


    ¡°Quite the stunning building, Huh?¡± Cecil grinned leaning back and forth on his heels. ¡°So many floors and rooms. An ideal place to carry out any murder!¡± He added.


    ¡°Sure, I guess.¡± I mumbled.


    Perhaps what was more grand than the house was the amount of chalk and police tape. Adam bent down examining a peculiar white chalk outline.


    ¡°Seems the yard has examined this place up and down already.¡± He stated.


    ¡°And not one of the nugatory men could find the trace of the poison,¡± Cecil added harshly. ¡°This is quite the embarrassment to the Yard.


    I peered at the few leftover men on their way back to the Yard. They all looked more upset than usual. It didn¡¯t take me long to find out the source.


    ¡°You inept men! Earn your damn wages!¡± A voice boomed. Adam and I looked over. Cecil pinched the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°What if Boss was here, huh? Twelve hours and zero progress? We¡¯d oughta hire monkeys instead!¡±


    The man stood at an average height, with a sturdy build that exuded an air of quiet strength. His feathery blond hair, tousled by the perched goggles on his head, framed a thin face with a narrow flushed nose and piercing cornflower eyes, not unlike Monica¡¯s, that seemed to miss nothing. His face, round with youth, likely barely out his teens and a similar age to me. He was dressed in a roseate sweater and a magenta tie tucked meticulously into a light gray vest. His slightly darker gray dress pants were tucked into black field boots that spoke of practicality and purpose. His expression contrasted with his well-dressed figure. His eyebrows were knitted together and thin mouth in a snarl. After a few more insults he noticed it.


    ¡°Boss!¡± He shrieked. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were here!¡± He ran passed us and stopped shortly in front of Cecil. ¡°These men know nothing!¡±


    ¡°Quiet down,¡± Cecil responded. ¡°They¡¯re trying their best.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a different tune from what you were singing earlier,¡± I mumbled. It appears the hot-headed man didn¡¯t realize my presence earlier as he looked a bit startled by my voice.


    ¡°Oh, and who is this Boss?¡± He asked, slowly leaning into my face.


    ¡°Mayla. I told you about her surely. Adam¡¯s new apprentice.


    The man¡¯s eyes lit up with realization. ¡°Yes! Quite right! I remember now.¡± He sang. ¡°And Adam.¡± He moved away from me and leaned toward Adam, who looked a bit uncomfortable. ¡°I¡¯ve heard much about you. The boss talks about you nonstop!¡±


    I swore I caught a look of embarrassment on Cecil¡¯s face.


    ¡°Quite the detective I hear!¡± He chirped. ¡°A shame what happened though,¡± He added gravely.


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Adam said shuffling his feet. He seemed not to be in the talking mood.


    ¡°Ah, but how rude of me!¡± The man rang out. He grabbed Adam¡¯s hand, then mine, shaking them wildly. ¡°Junior Detective Pigeon Price, at your service.¡±


    ¡°Pigeon? What an odd name.¡± I said once I was done breaking my hand from his iron grip.


    ¡°Ha! What can I say? My mother was a fan of birds. So, what brings you here?¡± He asked us.


    ¡°I already told you this, Pigeon,¡± Cecil said in a warning tone. You are to walk the girl through the crime scene.¡±


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    ¡°Yes, of course! That positively slipped my mind!¡± He chuckled. ¡°But sir, you said we weren¡¯t going to be here!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t plan to at first,¡± Cecil added. ¡°But how could I miss the chance to see my dear friend back into field duty?¡± He grinned. ¡°Besides, I had a feeling things were to go badly.¡± He looked around at the sorrow-stricken bobbies. ¡°And it appears I was right.¡± He sighed.


    Adam finally added his two cents. ¡°Perhaps we should speed this up?¡±


    Cecil grinned again. ¡°Ah, of course. Just can¡¯t wait for our alone time, huh? Well, we oughta be going.¡±


    ¡°Aw,¡± Pigeon moaned. ¡°How unfortunate for you to not see my greatest in action.¡±


    Cecil chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m sure. No more yelling! Especially not at the girl.¡± Cecil nodded at Adam and they retreated to the carriage. I was left with a strange man in the middle of a crime scene.


    Cecil hummed to himself once more. Adam couldn¡¯t miss his obvious good spirits.


    ¡°I¡¯m so excited! We have so much to get caught up on, dear Adam! Once you join me at my apartment.¡±


    Adam furrowed chestnut brows. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±


    Cecil''s apartment was as one would expect. Jet-black walls matched the black carpeted floor. Two black licorice-colored fainting couches with delicate curves sat across each other, next to a large crackling fireplace It didn¡¯t take a genius to guess what his favorite color was. On his ebony desk were neatly stacked papers and several dipping pins, illuminated by the soft glow of the fire.


    ¡°Sit, sit! We have much to talk about!¡± Cecil pleaded. Begrudgingly, Adam sat on the couch across from Cecil.


    The air was still, except for the sputtering and crackling of the fire. A hesitant emerald gaze fixed onto a longing sapphire one.


    ¡°You said we had much to talk about,¡± Adam said lowly.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Cecil answered ¡°You got my little letter, yes?¡±


    ¡°I did.¡± Adam sighed out.


    Cecil leaned forward. ¡°So?¡± He asked expectantly.


    ¡°You know we can¡¯t do that. After last time, Ironheel can only do so much. And even he has his doubts. I¡¯m almost positive he said something to the girl.¡±


    Cecil leaned back, looking a bit crestfallen.


    ¡°Enfield was reckless. It was neither of our faults.¡± He stated sharply.


    Adam rested his head on his hand tiredly. ¡°That was, like everything else, a mistake.¡± He retorted. ¡°You promised me that once it inevitably proved to be too dangerous we would back out. Do you know what I had to do to cover you? And you are the one upset about it.¡±


    ¡°That was an unexpected causality,¡± Cecil replied slowly.


    ¡°One that proved to be the end. Monica is on to us, I know she is. I don¡¯t know how much longer I can keep up this charade. Soon it will all fall apart. And I have a feeling your plan with the girl and boy will backfire terribly.¡±


    Cecil chuckled. ¡°Pigeon knows nothing. And the girl, well, she doesn¡¯t know enough.¡±


    ¡°No Cecil this isn¡¯t wor-¡±


    ¡°If we can only keep this up a little longer we clear ourselves and everyone else and get rid of the Lion¡¯s Den once and for all.¡±


    Adam snorted. ¡°Is that what they are calling themselves these days?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to change the topic! I¡¯m telling you, Adam. It will work. You have to have faith in us. In me.¡±


    Adam idverted from Cecil¡¯s intense gaze. After a few moments of thought. ¡°I¡¯ll give you ten days. Take care of the manor.¡±


    Cecil smiled. ¡°Of course.¡± He hummed. Suddenly, his expression changed as he leaned closer to Adam. ¡°Did you change your mind about the other thing?¡± He asked softly.


    Adam¡¯s face burned.


    ¡°Monica would surely find out. We¡¯d risk everything.¡±


    Cecil huffed in disappointment, but he leaned closer to Adam, faces nearly touching.


    ¡°And what will she do about it, huh?¡±


    Adam said nothing. They remained like that for a few moments until Cecil retreated, gaze darkening.


    ¡°How much longer are you going to lie to yourself?¡± He said, barely above a whisper. ¡°You don¡¯t love her.¡±


    ¡°Nor you,¡± Adam retorted, bitterness evident in his voice. ¡°Is this all you had to say to me?¡±


    Cecil managed a dry smile, his eyes betraying him. ¡°Quite. It seems I¡¯ve overestimated you. Let¡¯s get back to the manor, shall we? Cecil stood up and left the apartment, heartbroken.

 The Butterfly. the Lion, and the Horse

    ¡°Hmm,¡±


    Pigeon bent down, his face almost touching the floor as he carefully examined a particular spot on the mauve carpet. I let out an audible sigh, feeling a tinge of impatience as he seemed fixated on the same area for what felt like an eternity.


    "You¡¯ve been examining that same spot for thirty minutes! Maybe we should look somewhere else?" I suggested, hoping to redirect his attention.


    Pigeon, however, took this as an opportunity to launch into one of his characteristic "detective lessons" and sprang up with renewed enthusiasm. "Ha! To the untrained eye, it might seem like there''s nothing there! But look closely at the squished carpet, a footprint!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.


    Humoring him, I knelt down to inspect the carpet alongside him. As I examined the smushed fibers, I couldn''t help but wonder about the significance of this seemingly innocuous detail.


    "So what?" I voiced my skepticism. "We are in the middle of a manor, and many people live here. Besides, the bobbies have been here all day, so we have no way of telling if it is the footprint of the killer."


    Pigeon looked momentarily crestfallen at my response. "Perhaps... you are right," he conceded, standing up slowly.


    I couldn''t help but question how Pigeon had landed a job as a detective. Yet, in that moment, I couldn''t deny the possibility that I might be equally ill-suited for the role as a forensics scientist.


    "Perhaps we should look in Lady Lotusburg¡¯s room, you know, where she was murdered?" I suggested, hoping to steer our investigation in a more productive direction.


    Pigeon''s face immediately lit up with renewed determination. "Quite right! Let¡¯s get a move on!" he squealed.


    We ran up the marble stairs and to the farthest room, however, the grand wooden door was blocked by a plump maid with graying hair.


    ¡°Wut do you gibfaces want?¡± She spat


    Pigeon was undeterred by this woman¡¯s rather unapproachable manner. ¡°Good morning, ma¡¯am! We are here the examine the crime scene of the murder of Lady Lotusburg! I¡¯d thank you for getting out of our way!¡±


    The woman stomped her portly leg. ¡°You hornswollers are goin¡¯ nowhere! You an¡¯ those blue ha¡¯ed buffons have been prowling in the la¡¯y¡¯s room all morin¡¯! Do you have no respect ¡®or privacy?¡±


    Unlike I, Pigeon was able to decipher the woman¡¯s words. ¡°Those blue-hatted buffons work for the Yard, my dear lady. And excuse my ill manners, but the Lady is dead! What privacy is there to respect?¡± He laughed heartily.


    The maid, understandably turned red as a rose.


    ¡°Agh, no respect! No respect at all! Piss off you lil¡¯ ratbags, go, be gone!¡±


    With that, the woman continued to shove us until we were standing back near the staircase, then stomped off, back to her guardpost.


    Pigeon shook his head. ¡°Oh dear, it seems that didn¡¯t go well.¡±


    ¡°Of course not you mumbling cove!¡± I retorted. ¡°Next time don¡¯t insult the dead!¡±


    ¡°Having trouble?¡± A voice boomed from the ground floor. Pigeon and I peered over the railing and stared down the figure of Adam and Cecil. ¡°Once again, I had a feeling things go awry!¡± Cecil added.


    ¡°Quite!¡± I yelled back. ¡°This boy is as annoying as a fly! Can¡¯t you fire him, Adam?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, dear!¡± Adam replied, putting his fists on his hips. ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one who hired him.¡±


    Pigeon broke out in a fit of laughter again. ¡°Ha! Your plans are foiled!¡± He sang. ¡°Only Cecil and Ironheel have the authority to fire me, and they wouldn¡¯t dare!¡±


    ¡°Treat the lady nicely, Pigeon, or you are fired!¡±


    ¡°Of course, Boss! I wouldn¡¯t dream otherwise!¡±


    We went back down the stairs the join the two men.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± Cecil began. ¡°It¡¯s the maid isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Quite right sure!¡± Pigeon confirmed. ¡°Your deductions are always spot on!¡± Adam sighed.


    ¡°Yes, she was here yesterday as well,¡± Cecil commented. ¡°Can¡¯t say she was very pleased by my presence.¡±


    ¡°Just tell her to leave like the rest of the staff,¡± Adam interjected. It¡¯s a police matter after all.¡±


    Cecil shook his head. ¡°Of course, I tried, my dear Adam. As you can see it didn¡¯t quite work. That woman¡¯s name is Bernice Davenport. She has been Lady Agatha¡¯s maid, and self-asserted body guard since the day she was born. As you could expect, they grew a strong bond. Once I was tasked with the burdensome task of telling Miss Davenport about Lotusburg¡¯s demise she refused to leave the house. Once she found out the bobbies went through all the late woman¡¯s items, she was furious and started guarding the door.¡±


    I groaned. ¡°Can¡¯t we just arrest her?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. Ironheel gave specific orders to us and the bobbies not to detain her as she hadn¡¯t caused any harm. As bothersome as it is we just need to get her to leave.


    I moaned. ¡°This is so boring, Adam! I¡¯m doing my first case because a bothersome woman refuses to leave and some soft man won¡¯t arrest her.¡±


    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry, Mayla! Cecil will talk to her again, won¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°What!¡± The ink-haired man exclaimed. ¡°That¡¯ll go as well as it did yesterday!¡±


    ¡°I told you to take care of this,¡± Adam warned.


    Cecil gave a deep sigh. ¡°¡®Wish we could just throw her out the window.¡± He muttered heading up the stairs.


    Once Cecil left Price turned to Adam.


    ¡°Ah, Detective Clarke! How lucky am I to be blessed with the presence of the great detective two days in a row?¡± I rolled my eyes.


    Adam turned towards him. ¡°Detective Price. I¡¯ve heard things about you.¡± He didn¡¯t specify what type of things.


    ¡°What an honor!¡± Pigeon chirped. ¡°You must be jealous you were stuck with this one instead of a charming assistant such as myself!¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Adam answered sarcastically, adjusting his tie.


    Pigeon¡¯s ranting was interrupted by voices upstairs who I assumed were Cecil and Miss Davenport.


    ¡°Piss off you wimpy wanka¡¯! I told ya to leave for good!¡±


    ¡°Pardon me madam, I-¡±


    ¡°I said scram!¡±


    With a very short interaction, Cecil was pushed to the stairs in a similar style as I did. He walked back down them in a sorrowful fashion.


    ¡°A dismal failure!¡± He announced. ¡°Adam! Why don¡¯t you use your unwavering charm to seduce her into leaving?¡±


    Adam was not a fan of this idea. ¡°Why don¡¯t go convince Ironheel to let us detain her?¡±


    After staying silent through this affair I decided to announce my genius plan!


    "I have an idea!" I exclaimed with confidence, eager to share my thoughts. To my annoyance, Pigeon was the first to respond, his sneer dripping with condescension.


    "How adorable," he mocked. "But don¡¯t you think this is a bit out of your league, little girl?" Ignoring his taunts, I pushed past him and ascended the creaking, winding stairs.


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    Miss Davenport, with her hawk-like gaze, fixated on the staircase. As soon as she caught sight of me, she unleashed a torrent of words. "You spawn offa¡¯ devil! I¡¯ve had it with you and your packs¡¯ rats! Shoo!"


    "Just one word, miss! The suspect of the murder has been detained at the station! They want you to head there right away!"


    A look of belief blanketed her face. ¡°Wut now? You stupid girl, shoulda told me sooner!¡± She screamed. ¡°I¡¯ll kill that wretched murderer with me own ¡®ands!¡± She exclaimed, barreling down the stairs and out the door, almost knocking Pigeon to the floor. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and the three men joined me in front of the door to Lady Lotusburg¡¯s room.


    ¡°Huh,¡± Adam leaned over the snowy white marble railing of the stairs, and at the door, the woman sprinted out. ¡°That was easier than we made it.¡±


    As I entered the expansive room, my eyes were drawn to the lofty marble walls adorned with a striking collection of paintings. A scent of flowery perfume still lingered from what would be last time Agatha Lotusburg entered the room Each artwork depicted the vibrant, bustling lights of London and other cities, creating a sense of grandeur and opulence. However, it was the largest painting, housed in a resplendent golden frame, that immediately captured my attention. The subject, a regal elegant woman who I presumed to be the late Lady Lotusburg, holding a glass of white in a beautiful lilac dress and white bonnet. Ribbons of brown hair falling out and reaching her shoulder.


    Beneath my feet, the floor boasted checkered marble tiles, except a soft raven-colored carpet that extended under the bed and dresser. Above the Edwardian bed, a billowing white veil adorned with delicate pink fabric fibers and blue plastic butterflies.


    Turning my gaze to the dresser, I beheld a grand vanity adorned with the same glistening gold as the frame of the magnificent painting. At the far end of the room stood a stately mahogany china hutch, showcasing a collection of porcelain dolls,


    "How creepy," running my finger along the edge of the glass door of the china hutch.


    ¡°And that''s not the worst part.¡± Adam quipped, shouldering to a red paint outline in the middle of the room surrounded by tape. As I approached a sinking feeling felt my gut. The paint very held the shape of the outline of the body. Crudely drawn, but I could still tell one the body was in a fetal position with her left arm reaching out.


    ¡°How horrific,¡± Pigeon whispered.


    ¡°You should have seen it when I got in here!¡± Cecil guffawed, leaning over the outline. ¡°The blood pouring out her head nearly covered the whole room! He cried out.


    ¡°You cleaned it up?¡± Asked I. ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t supposed to tamper with evidence.


    ¡°Usually no.¡± He yawned. ¡°But we had more DNA samples than we needed. Besides, walking in here was like treading through a swamp of blood. Would¡¯ve been difficult to perform any investigation.


    After he mentioned this I examined the tile floor closely. I could see streaks of red, and some white tiles had a reddish tint to it. Yuck.


    ¡°Oh, dear. I don¡¯t envy the person who had that job!¡± Pigeon rang out.


    ¡°Focus on the investigation,¡± Adam ordered, tired of this gorey discussion,


    ¡°Uff,¡± I moaned. ¡°There¡¯s nothing else to find! What are we here for, the Yard already collected all evidence.¡±


    ¡°Now now,¡± Cecil began. ¡°That¡¯s hardly the attitude of a good forensics scientist.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Perhaps to the untrained eye!¡±


    Not again.


    ¡°There is always more to every situation!¡± Pigeon announced ¡°You just have to look hard enough.¡± He picked one of the flowers on the bed veil. ¡°See, right here. Regular flower ornament or spy camera?¡± Cecil ripped it out of his hand and placed it on the nearby dresser, answering his question wordlessly.


    ¡°We¡¯ve searched this room over and over for hours¡± Adam leaned against the wall and twisted his pocket chain around his gloved finger. ¡°Perhaps you should just admit defeat, Cecil?¡±


    ¡°Hmph! Just a little longer.!¡± He protested. ¡°Or maybe we aren¡¯t looking in the right spot?¡± He asked him.


    ¡°Umm excuse me, sir.¡± I inquired. ¡°Are we looking for something specific?¡± Cecil was burrowed in his thoughts, so Adam answered for him.


    ¡°Cecil here thinks the student is completely innocent, and that she was framed.¡± Adam pointed a thumb over towards the man. ¡°But clearly, there¡¯s no evidence of this.¡±


    I tapped my cheek in thought.


    ¡°Who would have framed her? She is a student from overseas. Who would have known her long enough to be so upset to frame her for a murder?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Adam sighed. Cecil broke from his thoughts.


    ¡°Have you heard of the Lion¡¯s Den?¡±


    ¡°Is that a store?¡± I guessed.


    ¡°It¡¯s a criminal organization,¡± Pigeon intercepted condescendingly. ¡°They believe the law and government are corrupted, their goal is political reform by slowly taking down important figures. A case the old police chief, Constance Enfield got caught up in.¡± I remembered Cecil mentioning that name.


    ¡°Quite right,¡± Cecil answered, adjusting his glasses. ¡°And I have reasons to believe the student was the unfortunate victim of evidence tampering.¡±


    I thought about it, but the pieces still didn¡¯t quite go together. ¡°So why would a political reform group have anything to do with a girl from an entirely different country?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Adam once again.


    Cecil chuckled. ¡°Just as skeptical as your boss I see. But the key word was caught.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    Cecil continued. ¡°To understand you need the understand the business Lady Lotusburg was part of. She was an extortionist.¡±


    ¡°Huh? But Adam said she was loved by everyone!¡± I interjected in pure confusion.


    ¡°That she was,¡± He answered. ¡°This was not known by many. As being of noble birth, Lady Agatha at much influence. She extorted businesses big and small and disguised them as patronage so people wouldn¡¯t get suspicious of her close ties with certain businesses. For anyone that caught wind of her deeds, she¡¯d pay them off, alternativity, have them killed. She even had her own assassins.¡±


    Unbelievable!


    ¡°We have one in custody,¡± Pigeon added proudly ¡°I tracked him down myself. Named Ambroise, last name unknown. He refuses to speak a word. Currently, he is getting a mental evaluation so he¡¯s not available for questioning. Not like it would do any good¡±


    I couldn¡¯t believe any of this! How could a person held in such high regard by the public be a criminal mastermind?


    ¡°But,¡± I began. ¡°Then how do you know all of this Mister Hans? This seems like a lot of knowledge, even for a police officer. You said she killed anyone who knew so shouldn¡¯t you be dead?¡±


    Cecil laughed out. ¡°Quite forward are we? Well, I have my ways and that¡¯s all you need to know about that.¡±


    I was not satisfied by this response and turned to Adam in the hope of more information, but he just shrugged his broad shoulders, not adding anything either.


    ¡°So, then maybe she was murdered by the Lion¡¯s Den in the name of reform. But then why frame an innocent student?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the question. And I¡¯m afraid it takes a bit more explaining to understand. One of the companies the Lady extorted is called Ironclad Innovations, the same company the student was here to examine. The company specializes in engineering parts for heavy machinery. One of the most prestigious engineering companies in the world, which is why people travel land and seek to land an apprenticeship there. One of which was Violet Yoshida, the suspect.


    ¡°So they framed the victim of her extorting?¡±


    ¡°Ha! Instead of asking so many questions, try finding the answers to them yourself!¡± Pigeon sneered. ¡°They didn¡¯t mean to frame her. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, you see. In order to take and give money under the radar, companies would have to use agents to give the money to Lady Lotusburg. Very often the agents have no idea what they are doing, instead under the impression that the money is for some sort of sponsorship. When I detained Miss Yoshida, she was holding the murder weapon, a bloody golden butterfly statue, and a sack of bank notes. When I questioned about the money, she said she was on her way to deliver money to Lotusburg for her sponsorship. When asked about the statue she said she found it on the floor next to the body of Agatha Lotusburg. Unfortunately for her, she was the only one around, so her alibi wasn¡¯t very believable, and was promptly arrested.¡±


    ¡°Then perhaps she was murdered the night before.¡± I threw it out.


    ¡°Unfortunately, that can¡¯t be right.¡± Cecil sighed ¡°According to the coroner, the body was fresh. She could have only died moments before Violet was arrested. Leaving the chance of murdering a woman and escaping by the time the police arrived very slim. But there are two very important unaccounted for.


    ¡°Such as?¡±


    ¡°First, the cyanide as we discussed in Ironheel¡¯s office. Poison was found in her system, however didn¡¯t contribute to her death. The second; The autopsy says she was murdered at 6:34, however, the police call that informed us about the murder took place at 6:20. Which means, somebody knew she was going to die, and called the cops and they arrived coincidentally at the exact time Violet Yoshida, the only one in the area, was in the victims'' room.¡±


    I was dumbfounded ¡°So if it wasn¡¯t the Lion Den, who else knew about the murder?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, we don¡¯t know that,¡± Cecil replied. ¡°But we can rule three things out. First, that Violet murdered the Lotusburg. If she did, how would the individual know beforehand and report her? Also, the door can only be unlocked by a key only the house staff and Agatha herself had. According to the staff, Lotusburg always had her door locked when she was inside. This means, that in able for her to enter the door had to have already been unlocked by someone. So the culprit is either a staff member or someone who had access to the manor long enough to snag a key. The only plausible sequence of events is that Violet walked him after the murder took place.¡¯


    ¡®Next is the Lion¡¯s Den framed her. Despite their rather questionable intentions, they are dedicated to their form of justice. Framing an innocent would contradict everything they stand for. Additionally, there would be no reason to report the murder before it happened. If something went awry and the assassin took longer than usual, they would¡¯ve been caught in the act. Third is the mysterious caller. We weren¡¯t able to trace the person, but we found the phone booth where the call took place. In the shopping district west of the Yard. In other words, the other side of the town. They could have not possibly known what time the murder would take place. In that case, the only solution is that there was an accomplice.¡±


    I was almost at a loss for words. ¡°Why on earth would a random person know about the Lion¡¯s Den plans to kill the noblewoman and report the murder just to frame a random girl?¡±


    ¡°They had no idea the Lion¡¯s Den was going to murder Agatha Lotusburg,¡± Cecil answered simply. He must have read my face and decided to explain.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t know someone else was going to kill her. Remember the cyanide? I am absolutely certain whoever placed the call was related to the poison. What would have happened if the Lion¡¯s Den didn¡¯t kill her with the statue? She would¡¯ve still had to die. They didn¡¯t report the Lion¡¯s Den murder, they were trying to report their murder. Someone tried to poison her, but she was killed before the poison took place. They called the police so they would arrive in time to find the woman dead from poison. Instead, the Lion¡¯s Dead got to her first, additionally, they didn¡¯t know about the arrival of Yoshida, so the unlucky girl was caught in a two-way murder.¡±


    ¡°Good lord, that poor girl!¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Adam spoke up. ¡°So the question remains. If Cecil is correct then the real killer is the Lion¡¯s Den. So who tried to poison her? Who had access to her long enough to administer her poison? Very likely a staff member.¡±


    Cecil grinned. ¡°You are finally getting it, dear! But now our job is harder. We need to track down two assassins this time.¡± He turned to me and Pigeon. ¡°You two should go and speak to the suspect. Adam and I will stay here.¡±

 Sly as a Fox

    As we trod carefully through the holding station we walked passed stained gray concrete walls that seemed they would crumble with the slightest touch. The stench of mildew hung heavy in the air.. Down the stuffy narrow hall were heavy rusted metal doors on each side leading to the holding cells. Overhead, too few long fluorescent lights flickered. Because of the narrow corridor, it was impossible to walk hand and hand so I stood behind Pigeon. When we reached one of the lights, its harsh glow lit up Pigeon¡¯s face, revealing his nose scrunched in disguise much as my own.


    ¡°This is not a place I¡¯d like to spend my weekends!¡± He laughed out.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure Yoshida shares the same sentiment,¡± I replied. ¡°Let¡¯s get her out of here as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°Of course! Her cell is second to last, on the left.¡±


    As we approached the cell, Pigeon pulled a set of keys out of his back pocket. After searching around for the right key he jangled it in the lock and slowly pushed open the door with a prolonged ¡°creek.¡±


    The scene was dreary and quite depressing. A metal table screwed to the floor and an old wooden chair sat in the room, seemingly for ages, seasoned by the prisoners who resided there before. Sat on the chair, was a young woman with long black hair and dark eyes, clad what I recognized as a battered purple kimono covered in bright pink sakura flowers and dark maroon stains which I prayed wasn¡¯t what I thought it was. Her pale arms cuffed to the back of the chair deep in contemplation. I cleared my throat to receive her attention and with a gasp, she turned to us.


    ¡°Oh, Hajimemashite Ma¡¯am, sir! Did you require something?¡± She asked with an inquisitive expression.


    ¡°Ha! I was hoping we could help you, Miss Yoshida!¡± Pigeon responded as he approached the table.


    ¡°Moushiwake Gozaimasen!¡± She squealed, bowing her head. ¡°Excuse my manners! Mr Hans told me someone would be here to speak with me. That must you two, yes?¡±


    ¡°Indeed it is,¡± I confirmed. ¡°We are here about the Lotusburg case. Can you tell us what happened? What do you know?¡±


    ¡°kanashi desu yo! Such an unfortunate situation!¡± She moaned with a sorrowful tone. ¡°The poor lady!¡±


    Pigeon leaned over the table and began his questioning. ¡°So, first things first, Miss Yoshida. What business do you have in England?¡±


    ¡°Of course of course.¡± She squeaked. ¡°I will tell you everything!¡¯


    ¡°For my entire life, I always wanted to be an engineer. As a kid, I built paper and straw houses. Unfortunately, it is quite hard to make a living as such in my hometown. For both being a woman and being such an isolated town, technology is not so advanced! So instead, I dedicated my life to my studies to achieve my dreams. One day my professor with the most amazing news. He said, ¡®Violet, you three other of your peers were selected to study abroad, do you accept this opportunity?¡¯ Subarashii shirase da! I couldn¡¯t accept it faster! I couldn¡¯t wait! A week later, I and a few colleagues of mine got on a ship and spent many weeks out at sea heading to England. For the entire time, I thought about how my life would be completely changed. After years of hard work, my dream was finally in reach! Once we reached England, I was stationed at Ironclad Innovations. For the first few weeks, I was just to be an assistant. Watching the process and doing errands.¡±


    I took this all in. ¡°And one of the errands was delivering the sack to Lady Lotusburg,¡± I asked


    ¡°Yes. I was told it was for some kind of kind of sponsorship of some kind. I was to deliver it to the manor. But when I arrived, the door was wide open and I didn¡¯t see anyone, so I walked up the staircase. There was only one other door that was opened. When I went inside-¡±


    She hesitated at this and seemed visibly distressed. ¡°She-she¡±


    Pigeon yawned. ¡°Save us the theatrics, we know the rest.¡±


    ¡°O-oh course. Minutes after I heard a barrage of footsteps coming up the stairs. Before I could turn around, I was tackled to the floor and handcuffed!¡± She cried.


    I nodded in understanding. ¡°I was also told you were holding the murder weapon.¡±


    She put her head down in shame. ¡°Yes, I did. It was quite a foolish act. But I was in shock. In front of the Lady was a golden statue of a butterfly. When she noticed me she pointed to it and whispered ¡®statue¡¯ after that. The poor Lady met her demise!¡± She sobbed.


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it was awful! Such a gruesome sight. At that moment both of our lives were over! I could-¡±


    ¡°Shut up for a second.¡± Pigeon snapped. ¡°She was still alive?¡±


    Violet nodded. ¡°Only for a moment. With the rest of her strength, she managed to point at the statue and mutter ¡®statue.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Cecil didn¡¯t tell us.¡±


    ¡°No, he did not!¡± The detective huffed. ¡°When we get back he¡¯s going to have it!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, whatever. Miss Yoshida, what ever happened to the statue?¡±


    She rolled her eyes up as was thinking about something deeply.


    ¡°I can¡¯t quite remember. When I was tackled everything sort of went black. Once I got to the station they questioned me about it but I never saw it again after I picked it up.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯m sure it is in the evidence room. Perhaps we should check there next?¡±


    Pigeon shook his head. ¡°No can do. We need special permission for that. The only people authorized. are Detective Adam and Cecil. Along with Chief Ironheel of course. But Ironheel is unavailable and Adam and Cecil are still investigating the crime scene.¡±


    ¡°So it seems we are in a stalemate.¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Not quite!¡± Pigeon pulled a card out of his breast pocket. I looked over his shoulder and read it:


    IRONCLAD INNOVATIONS


    ¡°We can go speak to the company who sent Violet there in the first place. I¡¯m sure something will show up.¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡± I turned back to Violet. ¡°Is there anything else you can tell us?¡±


    She furrowed her eyebrows. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, everything happened in a second.¡± She bowed her head once again. ¡°I am dreadfully sorry I cannot offer any more help. I hope you find the true perpetrator.¡±


    I gave her a smile. ¡°Of course, Miss Yoshida. And please don¡¯t worry too much. We will find the real killer and have you released!¡±


    With that me and Pigeon headed out of the building and to our next destination: Ironclad Innovations.


    After pacing the room for perhaps the thousandth time in agitation he wheeled around towards Cecil, exasperation written across his face.


    ¡°What exactly are we looking for, Hans? We¡¯ve been here all day.¡±


    Cecil closed the drawer to the dresser and met Adam¡¯s gaze over his glasses. ¡°Evidence, of course.¡±


    Adam eyed Cecil suspiciously. ¡°Are you sure? What else is there to find that the bobbies and 5 hours of investigating overlooked?¡±


    Cecil stood up off his knees and began circling Adam lazily. ¡°Are you doubting me, my dear Adam?¡± He stopped behind Adam placing a calloused hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.


    ¡°You agreed to this, remember?¡±


    Adam turned his head to face him once again. He leaned towards them with their nose brushing slightly ¡°Then tell me the full truth. You have been investigating her for a while, haven¡¯t you? You know I don¡¯t like being lied to¡± He hummed


    After a staredown, Cecil turned away, red in the face. Moments later he turned back toward Adam, grinning


    ¡°You little detective! How¡¯d you know?¡±


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    The chestnut-haired man chucked. ¡°Well, for starters you never care this much about a case. Is there more to the extortioning?¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess there¡¯s no point in concealing the truth any longer is there?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I never liked lying anyway. Fine, I¡¯ll tell you.¡±


    ¡°It started five months ago actually. One of my associates let me know about some questionable activities done by Lady Lotusburg. After looking into it myself I found it to be quite true. She was extorting business to get money, but for what? She¡¯s rich, isn¡¯t she? What would a woman with such high status need so much money for that is so urgent that she needs to resort to extortion?¡±


    ¡°Some people are just greedy.¡± Adam shrugged. ¡°You would know all about it.¡±


    Cecil ignored him and continued on his rant. Putting his hand to his chin and started pacing the room.


    ¡°After weeks and weeks of digging, I found something very interesting.¡±


    Adam turned to him.


    ¡°Her crimes didn¡¯t start at extorting. A two years before, she actually gave money to fund the Lion¡¯s Den.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Of course, this intrigued me too. So I looked into it. Remember the Andrews case?¡±


    A look of confusion came over Adam¡¯s face.


    ¡°Yes, we worked on that together. You, me and Monica.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Cecil confirmed.


    Adam thought to himself for a moment before continuing. ¡°If I remember correctly a series of gruesome murders targeting women and minorities started terrorizing the west of London. The killer would poison his subjects with an untraceable poison.¡±


    ¡°Quite right. The suspect was Mickey Andrews.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I remember now. After months we were able to narrow down to one suspect. Andrews. Everything seemed to piece together. But the night before the trial, Monica fell ill and was hospitalized. When examined, her symptoms were very similar to the ones of mysterious murders.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. She barely escaped with her life. And she never fully recovered.¡±


    ¡°Because of the practically identical symptoms, the Yard came to the conclusion they detained the wrong man., releasing Andrews.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes.¡± Cecil reminisced. ¡°How the public protested.¡±


    ¡°None more than Monica,¡± Adam added. ¡°She was certain Mickey Andrews had accomplices. And that they poisoned her only to throw off Scotland Yard, forcing them to release Andrews.¡±


    ¡°Quite,¡± Cecil said gravely. ¡°After we were released the murders continued on for another three months. We never got to learn the truth.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but if I recall correctly¡­¡±


    Cecil finished for him. ¡°Mickey Andrews was murdered around the time the crimes stopped. Presumably by the Lion¡¯s Den.¡±


    ¡°A troublesome ordeal it was,¡± Adam whispered, shaking his head, then turning towards Cecil. ¡°But how is this related to Agatha Lotusburg?¡±


    ¡°Ha, do you not remember? One of the victims of this case was Alice Lotusburg. Agatha¡¯s sister. After a ball, Alice fell violently ill. That night she died. After the coroner examined her body she found the same poison as all the other victims. It was said we was poisoned by Andrews.¡±


    ¡°So then it all makes sense! She supported the Lion¡¯s Den so would kill Mickey Andrews. But then, what would cause such a fall out?¡± Adam asked. ¡°Why would she go commit crimes herself, then get killed by the same people she supported?¡±


    ¡°And that is exactly what I tried to figure out, my dear Adam!¡± Cecil exclaimed. ¡°It took months, but I finally know.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t keep me waiting.¡± Adam scoffed.


    Cecil stopped pacing the room and walked over to Adam. Quietly he placed a notecard in his hand. ¡°If you show that to anyone I¡¯d have to kill you.¡± Cecil half-joked.


    Adam rolled his eyes and then read the card:


    Agatha Lotusburg, your involvement in the heinous crime is not hidden from us. You lent support to the Lion¡¯s Den in the murder of Mickey Jack Andrews. Your misdeeds have not gone unnoticed. However, your cooperation can alter your fate.


    A rendezvous is set for you at your manor on Thursday, December 8th, 1881, precisely at 4:30 PM. One of our associates will be there to meet you. Ensure you have ¡ê100 prepared. It is in your best interest to comply. - White Cavalry


    ¡°Blackmailing? White Cavalry?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard of them either,¡± Cecil replied. ¡°But from what I¡¯ve seen they are an underground organization much like the Lion¡¯s Den, with opposite motives. Here¡¯s the next note.¡± Cecil handed him another notecard:


    Agatha Lotusburg, To safeguard the secrecy of your crimes, we compel you to extort Diamond Bank. Our demand is clear: return ¡ê150 to our associate. Failure to meet this requirement will seal your fate. -White Cavalry


    After Adam finished reading it Cecil placed another in his hand:


    Agatha Lotusburg, Your cooperation in our previous request is acknowledged and appreciated. This time, we urge you to extort Shamond¡¯s Pawn Shop. To maintain the veil over your crimes, ensure the return of no less than ¡ê200 to our associate. - White Cavalry


    ¡°These-these are all blackmail letters! How did you get these?¡± Adam demanded.


    ¡°Ah, I have my ways. And there are a lot more than those mind you. However, there are a certain few I have yet to get my hands on.¡±


    ¡°Such as what?¡±


    Cecil put his hands behind his back. ¡°I believe these White Cavalry individuals are the ones who poisoned her at the end.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± Adam questioned. ¡°She was helping them.¡±


    ¡°Well read this.¡± Cecil handed him one final note:


    White Cavalry puppet AL has been dispatched. Seems they were already planning on doing the same. When she saw me she was already in the fits. Saying ¡°She quits¡± and telling me to ¡°Kill her if I want¡± and ¡°One day the Cavalry will be brought down. This situation is getting messy. - Fox


    ¡°I intercepted this communication between the Lion¡¯s Den,¡± Cecil explained.


    ¡°So she knew someone planned on killing her that night. But believed it was the Cavalry.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so.¡± Cecil sighed. ¡°But violent acts can¡¯t be excused by good intentions. Otherwise, we¡¯d leave the Lion¡¯s Den alone, wouldn¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°I suppose. But either way, the evidence clearly isn¡¯t here. How about we rendezvous with the others.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so.¡± Cecil chuckled and turned to Adam. ¡°But I¡¯ve been such a big help to you. Don¡¯t you feel like you owe me?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    Cecil huffed. ¡°Well, I want to know your secrets.¡±


    Adam crossed his arms and tapped his index finger on his forearm. ¡°And what makes you think I have any secrets?¡¯


    ¡°Of course you do!¡± He laughed. ¡°What¡¯s the real reason you hired that girl? You never like working with others like me and Monica. But you hire a street rat?¡±


    ¡°That ¡®street rat¡¯ happens to be more competent than you and even Mayla.


    ¡°More competent?¡± He questioned. ¡°Or naive enough to go along with your future plans.¡±


    Adam chuckled lightly. ¡°Naive? You must not know her very well.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± He shrugged. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m wrong. But the real reason certainly isn¡¯t you were just sitting at the edge of your seat waiting to hire a street doctor as an assistant.¡±


    ¡°Who knows, maybe I wanted a change of pace.¡± He mocked.


    ¡°But I¡¯ve been offering you a ¡®change of pace¡¯ forever!¡± Hans frowned.


    ¡°Not that kind of change in pace.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll change your mind eventually.¡± He mused placing his hand on Adam


    ¡°How about we rendezvous with the others?¡± Adam repeated.


    ¡°If you want to change the subject, fine. But tonight I request we meet with Monica. As per Ironheel¡¯s order.


    ¡°You must be out of your mind!¡± Adam scoffed. ¡°She does not want to see you.¡±


    Cecil laughed to himself as he exited the room, waving to Adam to follow.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll have any control over that.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s this way?¡± I gasped, struggling to keep up the pace.


    We walked around London for an hour and a half searching for Ironclad Innovations as Pigeon was too prideful to admit he was lost and ask for directions.


    ¡°Quite!¡± He coughed out, hands on his knees. ¡°That was all a test. It- ha ha should be right over here.¡± He pointed down the block at an ancient wine-red warehouse with dusty windows and heavy iron doors where workers hurried in and out.


    ¡°Bleak,¡± I commented. ¡°I hope you¡¯re wrong.¡±


    With his last remaining strength, Pigeon ran to the warehouse and I followed in pursuit, struggling.


    As we got closer, I noticed the blue metal letters screwed into the side spelling out the name of the company, atleast it did. The sign was missing several letters.


    ¡°Quite and old building,¡± I observed.


    ¡°Indeed!¡± Pigeon agreed. ¡°They cannot keep their own building in a good shape how will they expect to engineer machines for the general public?¡±


    ¡°Well, as Cecil told us, it¡¯s one of the most famous engineering companies in the world. Perhaps we should wait to judge when we are inside?¡±


    As we approached I came to the realization that the men walking in the building, were not workers at all, but bobbies and detectives. They hurried in and out of the building with the most urgency, before I could get a closer look a young bobby stopped us in our tracks.


    ¡°Halt!¡± He demanded, putting out a calloused hand. ¡°Police matter only.¡±


    Pigeon huffed at this. ¡°Ha! Watch your manners boy! I am an adept detective who makes twice your yearly salary in a week!¡± He wagged a finger in the poor bobby¡¯s reddened face. ¡°Now, pray tell, what is going on? Me and my assistant here were going to perform an investigation before we were very rudely stopped!¡±


    ¡°Assistant?¡± I spat angrily.


    ¡°O-oh of course sir!¡± The blue-hatted bobby stuttered out. ¡°It was my orders to stop any passers-by!¡±


    ¡°But what happened?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The CEO of Ironclad Innovations was murdered.¡±

 Another Knot in the Vine

    ¡°Murdered?¡± I exclaimed, ¡°By whom?¡±


    ¡°That is what we are trying to figure out, ma¡¯am.¡± The young man answered. ¡°His body was reported forty minutes ago by one of the workers. His body was in his office with a bloody gash across his neck. It¡¯s assumed his throat was slit.¡±


    ¡°Forty minutes ago.¡± Pigeon mused. ¡°So not even Detective Hans or Clarke knows about this.¡±


    ¡°Quite.¡± The bobby confirmed. ¡°And because of the company''s ties with the murder of Lotusburg, the Chief is down here at the scene himself.¡±


    ¡°The Chief?¡± Pigeon shrieked with enthusiasm. ¡°Time to prove my worth. Where is he?¡±


    ¡°I believe he is in the CEO¡¯s office, sir.¡±


    ¡°Then there is where we shall go! Come along, my dear assistant!¡± With that, he hurried past the bobby and into the warehouse, shoving past anyone who tried to stop him.


    I pinched the bridge of my nose. It appears as if I would have to finish the questioning.


    ¡°So, are there any suspects?¡± I asked.


    Not directly.¡± The young Yard member replied. ¡°As I mentioned, because of Ironclad Innovations ties with the other case, they suspect whoever murdered Agatha Lotusburg also killed the CEO.¡±


    But the Lion¡¯s Den wouldn¡¯t kill the victim of an extorting! So, if Cecil was right about there being two perpetrators and Scotland Yard is correct about whoever murdered the CEO also being whoever murdered Lotusburg then the only conclusion is that the murderer of the CEO was the individual or individuals who poisoned Lotusburg.


    ¡°I see. On a different note, what can you tell me about this CEO.¡±


    The bobby nodded. ¡°I can tell you what I know, but it¡¯s not a lot. The CEO¡¯s name is Neil Ottenburg. He¡¯s been the CEO of Ironclad Innovations for thirty-two years. According to his employees, he was stern but loved by all. I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s all I have been told.¡±


    To be murdered at the business you¡¯ve owned for thirty-two years!


    ¡°Speaking of employees, where are they now?¡± As I looked around I noticed all the workstations and guard posts where factory workers would be stationed, were taken over by detectives and bobbies scrutinizing every surface.


    ¡°The majority are being interviewed at the station.¡± He replied. ¡°They are trying to figure out how a murderer walked into a warehouse unnoticed. Unfortunately, their efforts seem to be in vain so far.


    ¡°Interesting.¡± After realizing I have interrogating this poor man for quite some time I decided to go find Pigeon and Chief Ironheel. ¡°Thank you for your time, sir. I¡¯ll go meet with the Chief.


    ¡°Of course miss, any time!¡± He waved me goodbye as I hurried to the CEO¡¯s office to discuss the second murder this week. I was afraid this situation was slowly slipping from my hands.


    Cecil trudged impassively behind Adam humming to himself.


    ¡°Place seems packed, huh?¡±


    As they walked through the cramped halls of the holding station, they observed every cell filled with men and detectives.


    ¡°It seems they all came from the same place,¡± Adam observed. ¡°Look at their uniforms.¡±


    The two men watched men in blue and white uniforms be ushered in and out of holding cells.


    ¡°Detective Clarke! Detective Hans!¡± A petite woman with a short auburn hurried towards the two.


    ¡°Harriet! Long time no see.¡± Adam smiled at the young lady.


    ¡°Mister Clarke. How wonderful it is to see you again. I missed you terribly.¡± She sang, twisting her hair around a slender finger. ¡°I¡¯m saddened we couldn¡¯t meet again under better circumstances.¡± She said sorrowfully. ¡°Chief Ironheel requires your presence. Unfortunately, the CEO of Ironclad Innovations, Neil Ottenburg was murdered.¡±


    ¡°Blasphemy! When?¡± Adam demanded.


    ¡°We got the call from a worker less than an hour ago. I was to report to you and Detective Hans but neither of you returned to your offices yet.¡±


    ¡°Yes. apologies. Someone caused the investigation to run long.¡± He remarked, shooting a glance toward Cecil.


    ¡°Hmph!¡±


    ¡°Oh, do not worry Mister Clarke, it¡¯s quite alright! All that matters is that you are here now. But the Chief requested you straight away.¡±


    ¡°I suppose he¡¯s at the company¡¯s warehouse then?¡± Cecil asked


    ¡°Indeed. The CEO was found dead in his office. With his neck slashed.¡±


    ¡°How dreadful!¡± Adam ejaculated. ¡°We shall head there straight away!¡±


    Adam and Cecil turned on their heel until Adam was stopped by a delicate hand on his arm.


    ¡°Before you go Mister Clarke. Perhaps we can catch up over dinner sometime?¡±


    Adam chuckled. ¡°I don¡¯t think Monica would like that very much, Miss Williams.¡±


    ¡°Oh, o-of course.¡± She coughed out. ¡°Don¡¯t let me keep you!¡±


    ¡°You and that Harriet, Cecil.¡± Adam sighed.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Cecil laughed turning his gaze to Adam from the carriage window. ¡°You sure have a lot of suitors. And you chose Monica out of all people!¡± He exclaimed. ¡°She is quite a handful.¡±


    ¡°And you think you are any better?¡± Adam chuckled. ¡°Most people and situations in my life are a handful.¡±


    ¡°That seems to ring true.¡± Cecil hummed. ¡°Your second murder since your vacation. Better not mess up or you will end up sacked for good. Don¡¯t wanna go out like Monica.¡± He smirked.


    ¡°You hypocrite.¡± Adam hissed. ¡°You know it should¡¯ve been you too.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. But I wasn¡¯t¡± He shrugged.


    ¡°Monica still doesn¡¯t forgive you.¡±


    ¡°I never thought she did. But I don¡¯t care!¡± He jeered.


    ¡°But perhaps not. But that damn woman doesn¡¯t let anything go. It¡¯ll come and bite you in the arse eventually.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be counting the days,¡± Cecil smirked.


    As the carriage arrived at the scene, Adam and Cecil were struck by the frenzied atmosphere surrounding the warehouse. People bustled around, surveying the area, while the yellow police tape cordoned off the building from passers-by. The sound of hushed whispers and murmurs of the officers could be heard all around.


    Adam shielded his eyes from the sun with a cupped hand and surveyed the scene. He noticed that there was an abundance of cops outside the building. "What happened here?" he asked Cecil, who was also taking in the chaotic scene.


    Cecil peered in the direction Adam was looking, his eyes scanning the area for any clues. "Perhaps they are looking for traces of the killer?" he suggested.


    Adam nodded, his eyes still scanning the area. "Out here though?" he asked, the confusion evident in his voice.


    The two approached a large-framed inspector with thick blond mutton chops and a contradicting bald head. was busy giving orders to a group of officers. The man turned back at the sound of their footsteps. His wrinkled face curled in the anger of being interrupted, soon being replaced with an expression of recognition and confusion.


    "Clarke''s back?" he asked gruffly as he noticed them approaching.


    "Indeed, Inspector," Adam replied with a nod of his head. "Is the Chief here?"


    The inspector nodded, pointing a meaty thumb at the entrance of the building behind him. "Jus'' go up the iron stairs," he instructed. "The office is the only room up there."


    "Excellent, thank you, Inspector Thomas!" Cecil said as he and Adam made their way towards the entrance of the building.


    As I caught up with the impulsive man inside the CEO¡¯s office I was greeted by Ironheel¡¯s trademark booming laughter.


    ¡°Miss Mayla!¡± He shouted, his thick arms sprouting out next to him. ¡°You¡¯re here too? How lucky am I?¡±


    ¡°Hey


    Chief,¡± I muttered. ¡°Me and Pigeon were here to investigate the company¡¯s involvement in Lotusburg¡¯s affairs but we were told the CEO died.¡±


    The chief¡¯s expression dropped. ¡°Unfortunately you were told right. Neil Ottenburg¡¯s body was found not long ago. Homicide.¡±


    I examined the office. It was in quite a state of disarray. The oak bookshelves were leaned against each other. Books strewn across the room. Pieces of the overhead chandelier blanketed the writing desk and the carpet underneath it. Pens and pen holders were toppled to the floor and ink-stained the maroon carpet. On a more gruesome note, the window behind the desk was splattered with blood. The black leather chair, which now sat on its side across the room was covered with puncture holes, rips, and splashes of blood. In the rightmost corner of the room, two bobbies sat hunched over examining what appeared to be another blood stain. On the opposite side of the room, Pigeon stood huddled in the corner, presumably to avoid the gory mess that dressed the office.


    ¡°Quite a struggle,¡± I noted as I bent down and ran a gloved finger through a mix of ink and blood.


    ¡°You are right my dear. As I was discussing with your colleague here, Mr Ottenburg didn¡¯t go down without a fight. A few minutes ago I was delivered a message from the coroner; traces of human flesh and blood from the perpetrator were found under his fingernails. And from the few blood test results I have received back so far, the perpetrator also got blood around the office.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great then, right?¡± I asked. ¡°Now we can easily find the murderer.¡±


    I heard Pigeon chuckle. That wasn¡¯t a good sign.


    ¡°That¡¯s quite the oversight from a future forensic scientist.¡± He mocked. ¡°You see, we have no way of knowing who that blood belonged to. We would also need a sample of blood from the killer that matches to know we found the right guy. Problem is, there are no concrete suspects right now.¡±


    ¡°Quite right, Detective!¡± Ironheel praised. ¡°The situation is quite grim as of right now.¡± He sighed. ¡°Luckily my favorite detective is back working. And he brought a little assistant with him!¡± He chortled. I didn¡¯t understand what was so funny.


    ¡°Favorite?¡± Pigeon spat in despair. ¡°What about me.¡±


    ¡°You have yet to prove yourself.¡± He replied.


    Ha! Point for me!


    ¡°Hopefully we aren¡¯t too late.¡±


    As I turned around I was greeted by the sight of Adam and Cecil entering the office.


    ¡°About time!¡± I huffed, ginger brows furrowing at them. ¡°Where were you, Adam? We¡¯ve been here investigating the murder.¡±


    ¡°My apologies!¡± The coffee-haired man scoffed. ¡°I was busy doing my job.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. You off the hook, for now.¡± I warned. ¡°To get on topic, we found the killer¡¯s blood in the office and under the fingernails of the victim.¡±


    ¡°Does it match any other records we have?¡± Cecil asked in an intrigued manner.


    ¡°Unfortunately not.¡± Ironheel lit a pipe and brought it to his full mustache. ¡°And we are out of concrete leads so far. And we¡¯ve had zero luck tracking down the Lion¡¯s Den or the unknown third party they are the true perpetrator as you say, Cecil.¡±


    No leads at all? How easy was it to murder two people and get away with it?


    ¡°Well, what about Lotusburg¡¯s assassin you have detained?¡± I inquired. ¡°If he had ties with Lady Lotusburg, maybe he knew the people to blackmailed her.¡±


    ¡°Even if he did, it would be no help,¡± Pigeon responded. ¡°We got the results of his mental evaluation back, he is completely sound of mind but still hasn¡¯t said a word. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s a dead end.¡±


    ¡°Quite true,¡± Ironheel responded. ¡°We are preparing to send him to a jail sound. The court will decide his face.¡±


    I groaned out, running my hands down my face.


    ¡°Then what else is there?¡± I cried out. ¡°What are we supposed to do now?¡±


    Cecil chuckled and fixed his ocean gaze on me. ¡°What we always do of course; look for evidence we don¡¯t have and follow up on evidence we do have. No matter how good a criminal one is, they always leave something in their wake. We only need to think hard enough.¡±


    ¡°Hans is correct,¡± Ironheel told me. ¡°There is not much else we can do at the moment, however. Perhaps you four should head home. The Yard can finish up tonight! You¡¯ve done your share of work in the past few days. Besides, a good night¡¯s sleep refreshes the mind!¡±


    I sighed out. I was feeling quite tired.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to work when you are trying to force your eyes to stay open.¡± Adam reiterated. ¡°Maybe we should head back to the house.


    ¡°I will gladly take you up on that offer!¡± Pigeon announced. ¡°These knees are creaking!¡± He yawned. In his usual fashion, he was out of the office in the blink of an eye and heading down the stairs.


    Ironheel guffawed. ¡°Ha! Well someone¡¯s got the right idea! We shall pick this up tomorrow.¡± He turned to the two officers still huddled in the corner. ¡°Constables, you are dismissed. Your work today is greatly appreciated. Clarke, Mayla, Hans you too!¡± We nodded in unison.

 Wolf in Sheeps Clothing

    As we stepped out of the warehouse, I noticed the setting sun. The sky was painted with vivid orange and violet hues. The once-crowded streets were now empty, and the silence was only broken by the distant chirping of crickets. A thick blanket of fog had descended over the city, shrouding everything in a mysterious yet enchanting veil. The air was damp and cold, sending a chill down my spine. The street lamps cast a soft amber glow over the surroundings. The sound of our footsteps echoed through the empty streets. My dress was not suitable for cold weather, I felt like I was going to freeze. The brown skirt of my dress felt like a ring of ice around my legs and the hat was giving me a headache and tangled up my hair. I was envious of the men¡¯s practical uniforms. Meanwhile, Adam was comfortably clad thick brown ulster coat. His chestnut hair tousled gently by the breeze. Behind him, A charcoal trenchcoat with several pockets hugged Cecil¡¯s frame. His silky black bangs and frame of his glasses obscerved my view of his eyes, but what I could he was shivering slightly, betraying his carefree exterior. We stopped at a crossing to wait for a carriage when Adam turned to Cecil.


    ¡°You know, you can go home.¡± He began. ¡°He said we were dismissed.¡±


    Cecil gasped dramatically turning to meet Adam¡¯s gaze. ¡°Surely you didn¡¯t forget, you are taking me to see Monica!¡±


    ¡°Monica, you know her?¡± I asked. The two men ignored me.


    ¡°I told you that wasn¡¯t happening.¡± Adam snapped.


    ¡°It¡¯s for work! We have lots of business to discuss ever since she was fired!¡±


    Fired?


    ¡°Quiet, Cecil. I told you not tonight. She doesn¡¯t want to see you.¡±


    ¡°Monica worked with you guys?¡± Once again my question was overlooked.


    ¡°Oh please, she can¡¯t hide from me forever. Neither can you Adam!¡± He sang. Adam rolled his eyes and headed towards the approaching carriage.


    ¡°I said go home.¡±


    Despite Adam¡¯s instructions, Cecil followed us inside the carriage.


    The carriage ride was mostly silent. Adam was unimpressed by the turn of events and I was upset at the two ignoring me at every turn. At least Pigeon acknowledged my existence. But I soon reprimand myself for having any positive thoughts about that dreadful man.


    The carriage slowly came to a stop outside Adam¡¯s house. The group exited the carriage and walked around the path. The exterior was dark, except for a single lamplight shining through the window assumingly from Monica¡¯s bed chambers.


    ¡°Mayla, go inside. I need to talk to him.¡± Despite my exhaustion from being told what to do and overlooked, I gritted my teeth and headed inside the house. I¡¯d deal with this later.


    Adam waited for Mayla¡¯s retreating figure to enter the house before he left the carriage himself. His thoughts were cut short by a hand on his knee.


    ¡°Alone time, Adam?¡± He purred, slowly running his hand up Adam¡¯s leg. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me you changed your mind?¡± He sneered lowly in Adam¡¯s ear, his lips brushing it slightly.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± groaned Adam, pushing Cecil¡¯s hand away ¡°And we aren¡¯t alone, Cecil. Let¡¯s go¡± Adam stepped out of the carriage and dropped coins into the coachman¡¯s hand. After the carriage rolled away Adam nodded his head toward the house, signaling Cecil to walk.


    Cecil¡¯s question cut through the tense atmosphere like a knife.¡°What¡¯s this about?¡±


    Adam remained quiet for a moment as he walked, hands clasped behind his back in a gesture of restraint.


    ¡°As I said before, I think Monica knows.¡±


    Cecil came to an abrupt halt and turned to Adam, chuckling nervously.


    ¡°How could she? She¡¯s been sick ever since the incident. Have you told her anything?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Adam replied in a hushed tone. ¡°I don¡¯t know how but she suspects something.¡±


    Cecil thought to himself before answering. ¡°Then we need to get rid of her too.¡±


    Adam¡¯s heart dropped as he wheeled around towards Cecil, eyes wide in bewilderment. ¡°Absolutely not!¡± He spat, voice caked with defiance


    ¡°Easy, easy.¡± Cecil placed a hand firmly on Adam¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It is merely a suggestion. The truth is she¡¯s been a pain in our side since the beginning. We all know she wouldn¡¯t have gone with it. That poison should have been lethal, Adam.¡±


    ¡°How can you even say that?¡± Adam growled. ¡°She was always more skilled than you. This shouldn¡¯t happened at all.


    Cecil let out a wry chuckle. ¡°This isn¡¯t about skill, you know that. If she knew the truth about Andrews she would have turned us all in and we would have been swinging from the gallows within seconds. She¡¯d have no problem killing us. And now, it seems we aren¡¯t too far from that.¡± He said shortly.


    ¡°And we¡¯d deserve it,¡± Adam replied, barely above a whisper.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Cecil conceded. ¡°But we are already too far into this.¡±


    Cecil stopped in his tracks and turned Adam around by his shoulder, his voice soft and resolute.


    ¡°Whatever happens, we need to finish what we started or everyone¡¯s in danger.


    Adam said nothing as he looked into Cecil¡¯s dark gaze until he finally broke his silence.


    ¡°Okay,¡± He said softly. ¡°I trust you.¡± He placed a cold hand against the other man¡¯s neck, rubbing it with his thumb slightly, their eyes never breaking off each other. Cecil took that as an invitation. He pressed soft lips against Adam who without delay, kissed back. As their kiss deepened, Adam parted his mouth slightly as their tongues intertwined in a wet embrace. Their bodies were pushed together and hands explored each other¡¯s bodies. The obsidian-haired man seized Adam¡¯s waist, bringing their bodies impossibly closer. An emerald gaze stared instantly into a sapphire one. Adam hooked his hand in Cecil¡¯s hair with a cry as the latter traced the curve of his partner''s jaw with his tongue. He gradually lowered his head unto a particular spot on Adam¡¯s neck that turned his cries and whimpers into moans. After a few moments of bliss, they broke away to catch their breath.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting to do that again forever.¡± Cecil mused between gasps for air.


    Adam looked away in shame. ¡°Poor Monica.¡±


    ¡°Well, I still want to speak with were. I wonder how she¡¯s changed after all these years.¡±


    Oh my god.


    I stood with my cheeks pressed against the glass watching Adam and Cecil break apart. Despite the veil of darkness that overtook the front yard, I could not possibly mistake the closeness of their silhouettes and the roaming of their hands on each other¡¯s bodies. Once they finally pulled away from each other, I retreated from the window to not be seen and to think of what to do next. Do I tell Monica? Do I confront them? Both? Neither?


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Whatcha¡¯ looking at, my dearest?¡±


    Things could not be worse. As I shakily turned around the sight of Monica greeted me with frazzled hair and in one of her sleeping gowns. By the bags under her eyes I could tell she had just awoken.


    ¡°Oh! Uh,¡± I hastily tried to think of a reply. She must have noticed the guilt written across my face because her expression dropped.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Is something out there?¡± Her tone became a bit more urgent as she approached the window.


    ¡°No! No! It¡¯s jus-¡±


    Her gasp as she peered out the window cut me off. Her face curled in a rage I¡¯ve never seen on anyone before.


    ¡°Is that?¡±


    ¡°Cecil yes,¡± I replied quickly. ¡°Adam didn¡¯t want him here but he insisted on coming. That¡¯s what I was looking at.¡± It wasn¡¯t a bad lie. As I looked out the window myself I sighed a sigh of relief that they were far enough from each other and approaching the house in a manner where one could never guess their previous activities.


    After a few moments of heavy breathing Monica unfurrowed her brows and lifted her pale lips into a smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ll put tea on.¡± She said curtly.


    The door opened and the two men entered. Cecil¡¯s face housed a big grin, Adam¡¯s the opposite. I tried to avoid their gazes as much as I could as I ushered them into the kitchen where Monica was preparing tea in an unusually quiet and erratic manner. Her delicate hands shook slightly as she poured the tea into teacups. She grinned as she handed me a cup as the men retrieved their own.


    The room was filled with a tense silence as I swirled the tea in my glass with my finger and Monica wiped down the kettle with a glass.


    Once she was done she set it down in the left side of the sink and wiped her soapy hands on her gown. She pivoted towards Cecil, who was cleaning his glasses on his coat and humming to himself. Adam stood beside him adjusting his collar.


    ¡°Cecil, long time no see.¡± She uttered. ¡°Who do I owe these pleasures too?¡± Her tone betrayed her statement.


    ¡°Chief Otis Ironheel, ma¡¯am.¡± scorned Cecil.


    Monica scoffed and rolled her eyes back, then met Cecil¡¯s mocking gaze once again.


    ¡°He¡¯s the chief now, is he? Well, I suppose there was no one else to object after what you three did with Enfield, is here.¡±


    Adam tensed up as Cecil let out a nonchalant chuckle.


    ¡°I truly have no idea what you are talking about.¡± He stated.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Monica brusquely let out.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so rude!¡± Cecil ejaculated. ¡°I¡¯m here on friendly terms, I swear. Ironheel was just wondering if you had any idea where that missing evidence went. It¡¯s crucial to concluding the Andrews¡¯s case you know. He was just wondering if you had an epiphany over all these years.¡±


    ¡°Evidence? I truly have no idea what you are talking about!¡± Monica mocked.


    ¡°Ah, ok. I see what game we are playing. The man replied darkly. ¡°The family would love to have that ring back you know.¡±


    ¡°Well, I do hope you find it. Is that all?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I could search your bedchambers? The chief has some pretty strong evidence that you may have it. Maybe you accidentally stuck it in your handbag all those years ago and forgot about it?¡±


    ¡°Oh maybe!¡± She expressed. ¡°Ever since that terrible poisoning, my memory has not been the same! It¡¯s so sad, maybe I¡¯d be able to help you if that damned Andrews¡¯s didn¡¯t intervene. Oh, I was in the hospital for weeks. It was a terrible ordeal but I suppose it was inevitable. Wasn¡¯t it, dear Adam?¡±


    Adam snapped his neck towards Monica at the mention of his name.


    ¡°Y-yes, quite indeed. So horrible.¡± He stuttered out.


    Monica clasped her hands over her mouth in fake shame.


    ¡°Oh, how rude of me! I should thank you for going to the trouble of retrieving that medicine! It saved my life and relieved my symptoms for a short period. You always go out of your way to help me don¡¯t you Adam?¡±


    She didn¡¯t wait for him to answer before she turned to me and pinched my cheek between her fingers.


    ¡°But I owe you the most thanks, dearest Mayla! I¡¯d surely be dead without that medicine you concocted!¡±


    ¡°Oh, please,¡± I said nervously. ¡°You gave enough thanks over these past days.¡±


    She giggled as she released my cheek and looked back up at the blue-eyed man.


    ¡°Forgive my rambling.¡± She apologized. ¡°I don¡¯t wish to keep you anymore, you are a very busy man. I¡¯m sure you have some boots to lick.¡±


    Cecil chuckled dryly as he shifted his weight uncomfortably.


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll tell the Chief you don¡¯t have it. But if you happen to think of where it could be please do contact me.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Bye.¡±


    She took the empty tea cup out of my hand and turned back towards the sink. Cecil took this as his signal to leave. He waved me goodbye and patted Adam on his shoulder, then made his exit.


    As we stood in the dining area, the atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable. Monica was silently washing the dishes, and Adam avoided eye contact with both of us, staring intently at the wall on the other side of the room. The only sound was the steady stream of water from the sink.


    After a few minutes of awkward silence, Monica suddenly turned off the water and spoke up. "Perhaps you should get to bed, sweetheart," she said to Adam. "You have lots of work to attend to tomorrow."


    Adam simply gave a curt nod before turning on his heel and making a beeline for his bedchambers.


    After the sound of Adam¡¯s retreating footsteps ended, Monica turned to me, slender lips turned upwards in a pleading smile.


    ¡°Mayla, my dear, humor me will you?¡±


    Yes?¡± I asked turning my head to meet her gaze. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°It may be a bit strange,¡± She began. ¡°But I need you to retrieve something for me.¡± Her gaze was dark and serious.


    ¡°Uhh, what?¡± I responded cautiously.


    ¡°The murder weapon.¡±


    My mouth gaped open in shock. ¡°M-murder weapon? Like from the case?¡±


    ¡°What else!¡± She giggled, bringing a frail hand up to her mouth. ¡°Do you have access to the evidence room?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t¡± I replied. ¡°Plus, stealing evidence is against the law, ma¡¯am!¡±


    She laughed out again, golden curls bouncing against her shoulders.


    ¡°Maybe so, but what those two have planned is much more sinister.¡±


    ¡°Wha-¡± Before I could ask my question Monica dropped an old pair of keys into my hand.


    ¡°Here, for the evidence room. Bring that butterfly statue to me, and don¡¯t get caught!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t! Plus where did you get these keys? Are they Adam¡¯s?¡±


    ¡°No, they are mine.¡± She placed a slender finger against her lips. ¡°I made a copy of all my keys before the chief confiscated them.¡±


    ¡°So, you worked at the Yard?¡±


    She yawned. ¡°That¡¯s a story I can tell you tomorrow. It is much too late. ¡®Night!¡±


    She rubbed my head and retreated to her room, leaving me alone in the kitchen weighing my moral obligations.


    I clasped my hands over my face and sighed out. I was so tired of constantly being lied to.


    I looked at the keys in my hands and wondered who to trust, or if I could trust anyone. Solving a murder? Stealing evidence? How did my life get so out of hand?


    I fell against the soft, cushioned bed and gazed up at the dark, looming ceiling, the keys cold against my fingertips as I placed them carefully beside me on the polished nightstand. Questions raced through my mind like elusive shadows, each one more perplexing than the last. Why would she want the murder weapon in the first place? What connection could she possibly have to the case? My forehead creased with the effort of deep contemplation, but try as I might, the pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together. The suspect, a foreign student, seemed to have no conceivable link to Miss Yoshida, the victim, a noblewoman with whom she would likely have had no prior interaction.


    However, as I pondered further, a faint recollection surfaced. Cecil had mentioned that Monica used to work with him. Could it be possible that Lady Lotusburg, the target of suspicion, had a connection from a past case she and Cecil had collaborated on? The idea tugged at the edges of my thoughts.


    My head throbbed with the weight of the day''s revelations. I removed my hat and unbuttoned my dress, the fabric heavy with the weight of the day''s events, and allowed myself to sink into the plush comfort of the bed. These enigmatic questions would have to wait until tomorrow. It was evident that I wouldn''t find the answers easily unless I delved deeper into the intricate web of connections myself.

 The Accursed Seed

    10 years earlier


    ¡°A murder case? How dreary¡± Monica moaned.


    ¡°Quite so.¡± Enfield shook her solemnly. ¡°Seventh this week alone. Supposedly by the same perpetrator.¡±


    ¡°Seven?¡± Cecil exclaimed. ¡°Someone¡¯s having a field day.¡± He tittered.


    Chief Enflied sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°If you want to put it in such a macabre sense, sure. So far we have deduced they have been thrill kills. The majority of the victims are women. Their corpses left in a horrific state if I shall put it. The others being minorities. One was an Indian busboy who was murdered at his flat. Two others were black shoe shiners, coworkers murdered less than a day apart. Another was a homosexual man who was murdered in the ally near the bar Seventh¡¯s Daughter. A place he frequented.


    Adam¡¯s mouth was agape. ¡°Horrific. And we have no idea who could be doing this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not.¡± She sighed. ¡°But that¡¯s where you three come in. Adam, my most adept protege, I want you to work with these two. Miss Monica Moore, a dedicated police officer since the ripe age of thirteen for personal reasons she can share with you if she wishes. After five years of hard work, she was promoted to detective. A difficult feat for a woman to speak from experience. You¡¯ll have no trouble working with this one. Adam turned to face the young woman in front of him. Beautiful blond curls fell over her shoulders and back framing her pale but beautiful face perfectly. The delicateness of her face perfectly contrasted with the starkness of the sleek black suit she wore. Sharp eyes like sapphires stared back at him until she looked down to avert his gaze.


    ¡°Never stare. Have you any manners?¡± She spat.


    ¡°Oh. O-of course.¡±


    Enfield chuckled airly, turning to the nearby short black-haired man. This one I can not vouch for. She said with a wag of a finger. Cecil Hans, a Prussian. There¡¯s not much I can tell you about him and he will tell you even less. He came to Britain with the requirements to be a detective so we hired him. Shadiness aside, he does a nice job.


    Cecil chuckled. ¡°You speak as I am not standing here.¡±


    Adam''s gaze lingered on the man before him, his eyes tracing the contours of a face that seemed to hold secrets untold. There was a sensation stirring within him, unfamiliar yet captivating. The man''s eyes, a striking shade of blue reminiscent of Monica''s, bore into Adam''s own with an intensity that held him transfixed. Unlike Monica''s, however, these eyes seemed to possess a depth that beckoned Adam to explore further.


    His attention drifted downwards, taking in the details of the man''s appearance. Silky black bangs parted at his forehead, framing a pair of black-framed glasses. Adam couldn''t help but notice how the tailored suit, matching Monica''s, accentuated the man''s slender frame in a way that sent a flush creeping up Adam''s cheeks.


    His gaze traveled further, noting the impeccable fit of the dress pants that completed the ensemble. Ink-colored with delicate white lines running down their length, they hugged the man''s legs elegantly, stopping just above his ankles to reveal a glimpse of black dress socks and polished shoes. Someone had a favorite color.


    Feeling a sense of intrusion, Adam tore his eyes away, only to be met with the suspicious gaze of the young man before him.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "Something to ask?" the man sneered, his tone laced with thinly veiled risqueness.


    Adam struggled to form coherent words. "You don¡¯t look Prussian," he managed to stutter out.


    "My mother was from France," Cecil replied, his response curt yet revealing nothing more than necessary.


    ¡°Moving on.¡± Enfield began. The Yard has been investigating this case alone for a while now. I was afraid of putting you three on a murder case so soon but it seems there is no choice. Starting tomorrow, you three will start an investigation of the murder. This includes examining crime scenes and detaining possible suspects. Do try your best. The result of this case will affect the progression of your careers.


    ¡°Of course, ma¡¯am,¡± Monica replied obediently. ¡°We won¡¯t let you down.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d assume nothing else.¡± The Chief grinned. ¡°But of course to solve a case you need to know what¡¯s going on. Today, speak with Inspector Ironheel. He will fill you in on the details you missed. He should be at Scotland Yard. Run along now, you guys are dismissed.


    Enfield turned on her heels, walking down a nearby corridor of the station.


    ¡°Well.¡± Adam sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s go find Ironheel.¡±


    The trio stood together awkwardly outside the station waiting for a cab. Each trying to think of a conversation starter.


    ¡°So, Monica.¡± Adam began. ¡°Thirteen years old. That¡¯s quite early to become an officer.¡±


    The golden-haired woman glanced up at Adam. ¡°Oh, yes. I was quite ambitious.¡± She answered. Monica searched the man¡¯s face. Slightly narrowed forest eyes and furrowed brows that seem to urge her to go on.


    ¡°My mother died in childbirth so I grew up with my father. He was an officer as well, my role model. To cut to the chase, he died in the line of duty. So of course, I followed his footsteps and decided to become an officer too. But I got tired of the desk work and decided to go one step further so here I am.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Adam said softly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your parents.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I¡¯m over it now. But you could repay me with your life story.¡±


    Adam shuffled his feet. ¡°I guess so, but it¡¯s not interesting.¡± He replied. ¡°My father was a wealthy landowner, my mother was just a housewife.¡±


    ¡°Oh, a rich boy!¡± Monica giggled.


    ¡°Pretty much.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Not very interesting though. Neither of them were family people. My father was always at his gentlemen¡¯s club. My mother was always spending frivolously with her friends. I mostly just out with myself. Reading a bunch of books and studying to become a detective so I could actually do something with my life. I couldn¡¯t imagine sitting around being paid to do nothing like my father. Life was pretty simple up until I was a teen.¡±


    ¡°The struggles of the rich.¡± Cecil mocked.


    ¡°Whatever. Something happened that made him not like me much.¡±


    ¡°You gonna leave us hanging?¡± Monica asked. ¡°What was it.¡±


    ¡°I uh,¡± Adam thought carefully about his response. ¡°I can¡¯t remember.¡± He lied. ¡°I think I broke a family heirloom or such. For the first time in my life, he actually started to pay attention to me. Unfortunately, it was mostly just antagonizing me.¡± Adam got tired of reminiscing. ¡°A few years later, he died from pneumonia. I was able to get on with my studies and become a detective. What about you Prussian boy?¡± Adam asked turning attention from him. ¡°What¡¯s your story.¡±


    ¡°Oh, not much.¡±


    Adam waited for the story, but it never came. Soon their carriage rolled up.


    As Adam and Monica settled into their seats, Cecil slouched in front of them, gazing wearily out of the window.


    "Seven victims in just a week," Monica reflected, her voice tinged with concern. "I wonder how many in total."


    "Thirteen," Adam replied, his tone somber. "He''s been active for three months."


    "Dear god," Monica gasped, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest. "Whoever could it be? They haven''t detained any suspects!"


    "We''ll have to work even harder," Adam reassured her, trying to infuse some optimism into the grim situation. "I''m sure something will come up."


    Adam shifted his attention to the passing scenery outside the window, his mind preoccupied with the urgency of the case. The thought of failing to apprehend the killer weighed heavily on him. How many more victims would there be if they couldn''t bring this criminal to justice?


    The sudden stop of the carriage jolted Adam out of his thoughts. "Everyone out," the gruff coachman announced. The trio exited the carriage after Cecil handed the driver a few coins, their minds still consumed by the pressing investigation.

 An Elusive Rat

    The towering walls of Scotland Yard loomed over them, casting long shadows over the meticulously maintained courtyard. The path leading to the grand double-door entrance was lined with neatly trimmed hedges. As Monica pushed open the heavy doors, she was immediately enveloped by the bustling atmosphere within. The room was filled with the incessant sound of typewriter clicks, the hurried shuffling of footsteps, and the murmur of conversations. Bobbies and officers hurriedly crisscrossed the space, each focused on their respective tasks. Piles of paperwork cluttered every available surface, some spilling onto the floor in disarray. To the right, a massive evidence wall dominated the room, adorned with a mosaic of photos depicting victims, evidence, and various locations, interconnected by a web of red string that led to numerous question marks.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been busy,¡± Cecil remarked, taking in the chaotic scene.


    ¡°It seems so,¡± Adam replied picking up a fallen photograph off the floor. The picture was of a woman. Dead. She was balled up in a fetal position, naked. Despite the gruesomeness of the scene, he couldn¡¯t make out any injuries.


    ¡°Look, no injuries.¡± Adam put the photograph in front of Cecil¡¯s face.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± He chuckled in a condescending fashion, taking the photograph from Adam¡¯s gloved hand. One of the things all the victims have in common is that they all have traces of poison. Unfortunately, we can¡¯t figure out which.


    ¡°He is right,¡± Monica interjected. ¡°The poison used on the victim doesn¡¯t seem to match any in our database.¡±


    Adam sighed and placed both hands on his hips, not liking his chances.


    ¡°So this killer has 13 victims in three months, untraceable poison, and so elusive he¡¯s escaped the grasp of the entire yard. Lucky us.¡±


    Monica ran a nervous hand through her hair. ¡°Things aren¡¯t looking too bright for us, are they? But this case will never be solved if we stand around crying about it. Let¡¯s talk to the inspector.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡± Adam responded. ¡°His office should be upstairs.¡±


    The upper-floor corridor was silent. A relieving break from the madness downstairs. They walked towards the end of the corridor and then turned to an oak door on the left. Adam knocked softly. He heard a bit of shuffling inside until he heard a boisterous voice let out ¡°Come in!¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s it goin¡¯ Clarke? Oh! And who are these two?¡± The tall man stood up from his leather chair. Brown curls covered his head and a matching beard hung down to the middle of his neck. Thick arms grabbed the edge of the desk as he stood up. A tarp-sized coffee trenchcoat blanketed his shoulders.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a bit, man!¡± He guffawed walking over to Adam, who was half his height. Ironheel clasped a heavy hand on the young man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°As you see, I¡¯ve been a bit busy.¡±


    The group looked around the room. The man''s joyous demeanor contradicted the state of the room. Like the desks downstairs, papers were scattered in the room. Cardboard boxes with stacks of photographs surrounded the desk.


    ¡°Nice to see you as well, Inspector. Have you guys made any breakthroughs?¡±


    Ironheel sighed, massaging his forehead. ¡°Nothing extreme. But we did notice all of the murders took place around the shopping district in western London. Most likely our murderer resides there. Unfortunately so do thousands of other people. I apologize I can¡¯t offer much help this time. But I can tell you everything I do know.¡±


    ¡°No need to fret Inspector,¡± Monica told him. ¡°You have been helpful already.¡±


    Ironheel turned to the lady. ¡°Oh yes, Clarke! You forgot to introduce your friends.¡± He said turning to look at Cecil, then Monica, then back.


    ¡°Right, this is Cecil and Monica.¡±


    Ironheel turned to face Monica again. ¡°Of course! Monica Moore! I¡¯ve heard all about you!¡± Ironheel offered an eager hand which Monica shook. ¡°An officer at thirteen! Impressive, glad to work with you.¡±


    Ironheel looked at Cecil. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen this guy around here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m new here,¡± Cecil answered.


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    The room crackled with tension until Adam spoke.


    ¡°So Ironheel, what can you tell us.¡±


    ¡°Oh of course, of course!¡± He boomed as he sunk back in his seat, shuffling through a stack of papers.


    ¡°The murders started three months ago. On July 23rd a body of a woman named Natalie Halls was found in an ally outside a tailor. When the police arrived they found her corpse nude but with no sign of trauma that could have caused her death.¡±


    ¡°So she was killed with the poison as well,¡± Adam added.


    ¡°Yup. After an inspection by the coroner, he found a poisonous substance in her body. We ran studies on it with every single poison on record but we found zero matches. Things were already going rough for us when on July 26th another body was reported. Another woman was murdered outside a pawn shop under the same circumstances. Another on August 1st. This time a black man. Another on August 5th, and one on August 9th. It¡¯s been a continuous line of murders for the last three months. All 2 to 6 days apart.


    ¡°When was the last murder?¡± Asked Monica.


    ¡°Three days ago.¡±


    ¡°So if this pattern continues, the murder should happen sometime in the next few days.¡± Cecil mused.


    ¡°Sadly, you are correct. This is why this case has the utmost importance. Despite our ongoing investigations, murders have been happening right under our noses. It¡¯s good you three are here. We¡¯ll take any help we can get.¡±


    ¡°Of course, inspector,¡± Adam smiled. ¡°We will get started as soon as possible. Any idea where we should start?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see.¡± He breathed, leaning back in his seat. ¡°Though tedious, it would be good for you guys to stop at each crime scene. But as I said, earlier, each murder happened in the shopping district so they are all nearby. Stores have closed down and the residents are frantic. It would be a good idea to question some of them to see if they¡¯ve seen anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. On the other side of the coin, we are trying to track down the murderer. We are trying to tie down the similarities between the victims, the time they were murdered, and where. It would also be wise to speak to the rest of the Yard about the evidence they have found. It is a lot of work and time is not on our side. It would be a good idea to split up to cover all bases as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good.¡± Monica turned towards the rest of the group. ¡°Who wants to do what?¡±


    ¡°If I may,¡± Ironheel interjected. ¡°I¡¯d like Monica to accompany me to talk to the Yard.¡±


    ¡°On what basis?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Well, most of the victims are women. We don¡¯t know when the next murder will happen or by whom. Having a female detective parade around in the murderer''s fairgrounds seems like it would make her a primary target.¡±


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    Adam looked over at the young woman who was bristling.


    ¡°I can handle myself!¡± She huffed. This is why I¡¯m here, to investigate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you can. This is no attack on your competence. It¡¯s we don¡¯t know how the killer operates. You can perform an investigation at the Yard out of harm''s way while your coworkers examine the shopping district.¡±


    Monica¡¯s arms were crossed and she was giving the Inspector a dangerous left. After a few seconds of angry silence, she spoke.


    ¡°I suppose. You two better not mess up!¡±


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± Adam told her sympathetically. We will see you soon.¡±


    Ironheel clasped his hands together. ¡°Looks like the plan is set. The next murder will happen in the next few days unless we find something big. Let¡¯s not dawdle any longer. I¡¯d recommend starting at the first crime scene you two. The murder was outside a tailor called Drours. You should be able to find it. Just follow the police tape. Miss Moore, come with me.¡±


    With that, Monica and Ironheel got from their chairs and left. Cecil stood up and turned to Adam.


    ¡°You heard him. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The Yard was just as chaotic as they left it. People hurried through the building. One almost knocked down Cecil as they walked down the stairs. They caught a glimpse of Ironheel and Monica talking to one of the bobbies and sent them a friendly nod. Once they got into the carriage, Adam conversed with Cecil.


    ¡°Drours is about forty-five minutes from here. It should be a long ride.


    ¡°Yup.¡±


    Well, that didn¡¯t work.


    Silence overtook the two again while Adam thought of something to say.


    "So, Prussia," Adam began, eyeing Cecil curiously. "That''s quite a distance. What brings you all the way here to Great Britain?"


    "A change of scenery," Cecil replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Plus, the men here are sexier."


    Adam''s head snapped towards Cecil, his eyes wide with shock.


    "Wha- You can''t say such things in public!" he whispered sharply, his voice filled with panic.


    Cecil looked Adam up and down with a smirk, his sharp blue eyes boring into Adam''s.


    "You gonna tell on me?" he asked, the challenge clear in his voice. "I mean, it''s not like I was wrong. You''re standing right here."


    Adam''s cheeks burned as he quickly averted his gaze. "You''ll get us both in trouble," he murmured, his voice barely audible.


    "For what? Friendly banter?" Cecil chuckled his tone light and teasing.


    "Not that. You know it''s illegal."


    Cecil leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with a casual grace. "It is when you get caught."


    Adam''s anxiety spiked. "Well, at least be careful. You''re surrounded by officers all the time."


    "Are you careful?"


    Adam turned even redder. "What? No, I''m not like that."


    "Really?" Cecil asked, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "It didn''t seem that way this morning."


    Adam opened his mouth, but no words came out. He could only stare at Cecil, his mind racing and his face flushed with embarrassment.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so shy.¡± Cecil teased. ¡°It didn¡¯t bother me. You¡¯re not too bad-looking yourself.¡±


    ¡°Stop it!¡± Adam choked out. ¡°You didn¡¯t even answer my question, you liar! Nobody goes to another country for a fling. What¡¯s the real reason?¡±


    ¡°Are you calling me a liar?¡± Cecil asked bringing his hand to his chest in fake shock.


    ¡°I already did.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡± He questioned with slight hostility.


    ¡°Nothing, sorry,¡± Adam replied softly. ¡°I was just asking.¡±


    Cecil¡¯s expression softened. ¡°It¡¯s just not something that concerns you, pretty boy.¡±


    Adam looked away again fidgeting with his pant leg.


    ¡°You should stop talking like that.¡±


    ¡°But you make it so hard,¡± Cecil whined. ¡°But alas.¡±


    ¡°Alright, then I have another question. How long have you been in Britain?¡±


    ¡°You sure do ask a lot of questions about me.¡± Cecil mocked. ¡°I don¡¯t remember you interrogating the girl about her past¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t go through absurd things to hide it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not hiding anything, my dear Adam.¡±


    ¡°I said stop it.¡± Adam sighed, running a hand through his chestnut waves.


    ¡°So rude. But to answer your question I¡¯ve been here for four years. See, nothing important and nothing to hide.¡±


    Adam leaned in, intrigued.


    ¡°How did you learn English?¡±


    ¡°I taught myself.¡±


    ¡°How.¡±


    ¡°Books. And you ask a lot of questions.¡± Cecil huffed.


    ¡°Maybe I find you interesting.¡± Adam hummed.


    Cecil¡¯s cheeks were slightly tinted pink as he adjusted his glasses.


    ¡°Then I¡¯m sure I can answer all your absurd questions in a more romantic setting.¡±


    Adam tittered softly. ¡°Not that kind of interesting.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Cecil grinned. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m winning you over.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± Adam answered with a similar smile. ¡°Then you work fast.¡±


    ¡°I guess so.¡±


    The carriage settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, except for the rolling of the wheels until another question popped into his mind


    ¡°So, if you''re from Prussia can you speak German?¡± Adam queried with curiosity.


    ¡°Yup,¡± replied Cecil with a casual nod.


    Adam''s eyes lit up with excitement. ¡°Can you teach me some?¡± he inquired eagerly.


    Cecil hesitated for a moment before responding, ¡°Nope.¡±


    Adam seemed caught off guard by the refusal.


    ¡°Why not?¡± he asked, slightly exasperated. ¡°If you really do know it, then it shouldn¡¯t be difficult.¡±


    Cecil rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.


    ¡°Fine, but then you shut up for the rest of the ride,¡± he relented.


    Adam smirked and nodded eagerly, eager to learn.


    Cecil mulled it over for a moment before deciding to teach Adam a phrase.


    ¡°Ich habe mich in dich verliebt,¡± Cecil said, enunciating each word clearly.


    Adam attempted to repeat after him but stumbled over the sounds.


    ¡°Itch happen what?¡± he asked, looking puzzled.


    ¡°It means ¡®I speak German,¡¯¡± Cecil sighed, realizing that teaching German to Adam might not be as easy as he initially thought.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Adam responded, trying to process the new information.


    Cecil chuckled at Adam¡¯s quick attempt to learn German.


    ¡°I told you it wouldn¡¯t work. It never does.¡±


    ¡°Hmph!¡± Adam grumbled in good humor. Cecil decided to press his luck.


    ¡°Since you keep asking me a bunch of questions, I want to ask you something.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡±


    ¡°Are you single?¡±


    Adam¡¯s face felt hot once again.


    ¡°I knew it was going to be something like that.¡±


    ¡°Answer the question,¡± Cecil said. ¡°I answered all of yours.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am.¡±


    ¡°Are you busy tomorrow evening?¡±


    ¡°Are you insane?¡± Adam snapped. ¡°Of course I am. And you are too. We have a very important case to solve, remember?¡±


    ¡°We can put some things on hold,¡± Cecil suggested. ¡°But, the next murder should happen in the next few days, ideally the case should be solved by then. So once it¡¯s over¡­¡±


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t know, Cecil,¡± Adam replied anxiously. ¡°You know things like that are against the law.¡±


    ¡°The law, my dear Adam, can¡¯t govern every aspect of our lives. Some rules have to be broken to live truly free.¡±


    ¡°What the devil are you talking about? Well, whatever. I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    Cecil beamed, blue eyes lighting up like Christmas lights.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±

 Unraveling the Threads

    ¡°So what exactly do I do here?¡±


    Monica shuffled her feet nervously, feeling out of place. She peered at the stern-faced bobbies typing away at their desks and feared interrupting them.


    ¡°They don¡¯t bite!¡± Ironheel laughed jovially. ¡°We are not looking for anything specific, just anything that may lead us to the murderer. Maybe the killer dropped something.¡±


    ¡°Seems far-fetched,¡± Monica muttered.


    ¡°Of course it is! But we need to cover all bases. We are down on our luck and the next murder can happen anytime, but one of the greatest things a detective can do is smile. Smile no matter how bad the odds are because if you give up hope, your work will reflect that. Even if everything is going horribly wrong, smile.¡±


    ¡°Smile?¡± She thought. ¡°Is that why you are always smiling Inspector.¡±


    He grinned. ¡°You know it. But let¡¯s get back on track.¡± Ironheel turned to the left and pointed at a small locked door. ¡°Over there is the evidence room, it has all the evidence we have collected from this case. Start there. The code to the lock is 0D3V1N3S.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡± Monica slapped a hand to her forehead in salute and marched to the evidence room.


    ¡°N, 3, S, there we go!¡± With a click, Monica unlocked the door to the room and waltzed in.


    ¡°Holy moly.¡± She remarked looking around the room. The stuffy room was lit up by a small gas lamp sitting on a side table in the back. The rest of the room was lined floor to ceiling with shelves and cardboard boxes. Each box had a date, some with the word ¡°SOLVED¡± stamped on in red ink. To her dismay, the boxes were out of order.


    ¡°July 10th, July 12th, goddamn it! Why does it go to December 19?¡± Monica huffed in frustration as she paced the room looking box to box.


    ¡°August 1st, October 8th¡­ ah, ongoing, it¡¯s gotta be this one.¡±


    Monica pulled one of the boxes off the shelf and looked inside, disappointed by its lack of contents.


    ¡°Good lord.¡± She sighed. ¡°Smile, Monica, smile.¡±


    She took out the contents: A bloody brooch, a cracked watch, two lockets, and oddly enough, a stuffed doll.


    She took the brooch between thin fingers and examined it. The shiny silver disk glittered in the light. So did a bright red splatter on the back. She was sure it was blood.


    ¡°Well, this presumably belonged to one of the victims.¡± She whispered to herself. She looked closer for any more clues. Disappointed, she set it aside. Next, she picked up the watch. A leather banded watch with many deep gashes. The glass lens of the watch was completely shattered. A few sharp pieces remain pointing haphazardly out the sides.


    ¡°It seems to have belonged to a man.¡± She mused. She flipped it over numerous times to spot any sort of clue. Just before she was going to give up she noticed a small engraving on the metal of the underside of the watch.


    ¡°MA?¡± She asked herself. ¡°Initials are something else. Could it belong to the murderer?¡± She made a mental note to go over the autopsy reports later to see if the letters matched the initials of any victims.


    She put both lockets in front of her. Both were made of rose gold and hung from a delicate thin chain. A small heart-shaped pendant hung from each chain. She decided to open the first one.


    She brought it close to her face. Inside was a crinkled photo of a man. The man has thin shrunken cheeks and harsh bags under his eyes. A smoothly shaven face topped with a balding head of thin blonde hair. The man looked quite sickly.


    ¡°Husband of a victim perhaps?¡±


    She went to open the next locket. Unfortunately, it was locked, she wouldn¡¯t be able to test her theory of the lockets having identical photos as well. She put both necklaces aside.


    Then she grabbed the item that intrigued her most of all, the stuffed doll. The raggedy thing looked straight out of a haunted house. The doll had a cracked porcelain head with a felt body. One of the doll''s eyelids was missing. The other eye had its pupil entirely rubbed off, inside a snow-white marble inside the head. Chunks of dirty yarn hung out the doll''s head. Holes where pieces of yarn used to hang were filled with dirt and grime. The body was grey with brown and red patches that Monica recognized as blood. Most notably a giant gash ran down the doll''s back filled with pieces of corn husk.


    ¡°Who carries a doll in such a state around with them?¡± She wondered.


    Then, something caught her attention, on the left side of the gash were two letters written in black ink: MA.


    ¡°MA?¡±


    A lightbulb lit up in her head. She grabbed the nearby watch and read the engraving.


    AW


    ¡°So it belongs to the same person, huh?¡±


    She put the evidence back in the box. She needed to ask Ironheel about the autopsy reports right away.


    As Monica reentered the lobby Inspector Ironheel was in a meditative discussion with one of the bobbies.


    ¡°Inspector!¡± Monica demanded. ¡°I need the autopsy reports right away!¡±


    Ironheel looked back at her with an astonished expression as the young lady dropped the box on the floor, opened it, and then dug out a watch and a doll.


    ¡°Of course, Miss Moore. But what is all this.¡±


    ¡°I think I found something!¡± She announced. ¡°Do any of the victims have the initials MA?¡±


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    Ironheel took a thick yellow file out of the hands of a young officer with a polite nod.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know off the top of my head. But it should all be in here.¡± He handed her the file.


    ¡°Thank you, sir!¡±


    To everyone¡¯s surprise, Monica dropped to her knees and emptied the contents of the file out on the floor. She took out all thirteen autopsy reports and sat them side by side to read all the names:


    Natalie Halls


    Mashida Floyd


    Harris Strong


    Lance Cotton


    Zayd Burton


    Hedi Smith


    Lois Miles


    Rosie Case


    Edmund Rochester


    Ebony Loves


    Melody Clayton


    Will Faulkner


    Jenny Felts


    Not a single had the initials MA.


    ¡°Haha! I found it! I found it!¡±


    Monica flung the papers back into the folder and threw it aside, then quickly rose to her feet. Ironheel stood in front of her gazing at her wildly while the rest of the room occupants stopped their work and watched her intently.


    ¡°Good lord, woman! Have you gone insane?¡±


    ¡°No, Ironheel, look! Look!¡± Monica flung the doll and watch in Ironheels face.


    ¡°Sir, both of these items were found at the crime scene. Additionally, they both have the initials MA on them. However, after looking through the autopsy files, not a single victim has these initials. So, if they weren¡¯t dropped by the victims, then it must of been the murderer!¡±


    A few bobbies let out a gasp at the revelation. Wide-eyed, Ironheel grabbed the items out of Monica¡¯s grasp and examined them.


    ¡°It seems you are right.¡± He punctuated. He wheeled around. ¡°You!¡± He demanded at a nearby officer. ¡°I ordered you specifically to relay orders to have a group examine the evidence. How the hell did they overlook this?¡± He roared.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, sir!¡± The man squealed. We have been so overloaded with work! We haven¡¯t had time to do an in-depth investigation of the evidence we picked up yet, most of our resources have been dedicated to the crime scenes themselves.¡±


    Ironheel let out a frustrated sigh. ¡°Very well.¡± He turned back to Monica. ¡°You are a very brilliant girl!¡± He gleamed. ¡°But do not celebrate yet. Although it is vital evidence, we will have to do more investigating to confirm they are indeed the killer''s initials. It could just be a way to throw us off. In the meantime, I¡¯ll send word to Detective Clarke and Hans to search for anyone in the shopping district with matching initials, better safe than sorry.¡± He handed Monica a pair of keys. ¡°Since clearly you are more adept than the entire Yard, I have one more chore for you. I need to visit the coroner''s office to speak with the coroner about the circumstances of the bodies. See if you can pick up any more scents. I need to speak with the Chief.¡±


    ¡°Of course sir.¡±


    ¡°Officer Dawdries, hail this lady a carriage to the coroner¡¯s office. I have some errands to run.¡±


    ¡°On it sir! Follow me, Detective Moore.¡±


    Monica nodded nonchalantly in an attempt to hide her growing excitement. Things were finally turning around.


    The duo surveyed the scene. The entire store was cordoned off with yellow tape, and officers were meticulously combing through the area. Behind the building, a stark white outline marked where the body had been discovered.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± Cecil scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°What are we even doing here? What¡¯s left to find?¡±


    ¡°Evidence that leads to the killer, I¡¯d assume, Cecil,¡± Adam replied, his tone measured.


    They approached the white outline, noting that the body had been found in a crumpled position. Despite being a crime scene, everything appeared remarkably undisturbed¡ªno scuffs on the pavement, no blood splatters.


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right. There is nothing here,¡± Adam sighed, placing both hands on his head, feeling the weight of the situation.


    ¡°Exactly, pretty boy. I¡¯m sure the Yard¡¯s got it covered. Let¡¯s leave. I know some great restaurants¡ªare you hungry?¡±


    Adam groaned. ¡°What the devil is wrong with you? Thirteen people have been murdered! Maybe you¡¯re just here for the handsome men. If there¡¯s nothing to do here, we can question the locals.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a lot of work,¡± Cecil muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.


    ¡°Detective Clarke! Detective Hans!¡±


    They turned to see a young, weary bobby running toward them, his uniform slightly disheveled from the day¡¯s efforts. ¡°A message from the inspector,¡± the young man said, handing Adam a small slip of paper. Adam unfolded it and read aloud:


    Found MA on evidence. Look for suspects with matching initials. Rendezvous at Scotland Yard in three hours. - Otis Ironheel


    ¡°See, no reason to leave now,¡± Adam said, handing Cecil the note.


    ¡°Oh sure, like there aren¡¯t dozens of individuals with the initials ¡®MA.¡¯ What kind of wild goose chase is this?¡±


    ¡°The faster we get this done, the more time I¡¯ll have to consider your offer. So, stop whining. The nearest residence is down the block. Let¡¯s get going.¡±


    Cecil rolled his eyes but followed Adam as they walked down the dimly lit street.


    Adam knocked on the first door, badge in hand. Cecil stood close behind him. After a few moments, a young woman cracked open the door. She peered nervously through the crack at the two men. Her eyes were big and blown and her head was wrapped in a dirty white scarf. She fidgeted with the door frame as she mustered up the courage to speak.


    ¡°Who¡¯re you two?¡± She whispered, barely audible.


    ¡°Good evening ma¡¯am.¡± Adam nodded politely as he brought up his badge. ¡°I¡¯m Detective Clarke and this is Detective Hans. We are here to ask you about the murders that have been happening as of late.


    ¡°You ¡®aven¡¯t caugh¡¯t ¡®em?¡± Her fidgeting got faster as she brought the door back by an inch.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid not. Do you know anyone with the initials ¡®MA?¡¯¡±


    ¡°No! Go! I can¡¯t trust any of ya¡¯!¡± She slammed the door shut.


    ¡°That didn¡¯t go well,¡± Adam muttered turning to Cecil.


    ¡°Of course not. Thirteen murders have happened in the span of three months in this area alone. All the residents are terrified. It¡¯s a miracle she opened the door in the first place.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± He sighed. ¡°There¡¯s gotta be a better way to go about this. There¡¯s got to be a record of the residents somewhere.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there is. But we can¡¯t go rooting through government files so such a faint lead. This has all been useless.¡±


    ¡°No, no it hasn¡¯t! We just have to try harder. Something will come up¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been through this routine already. And so has the entirety of the Scotland Yard. It¡¯s been nothing but dead ends. Some cases are never solved. Instead of wasting time chasing our own tails maybe we should focus our attention on something important.¡±


    ¡°Like what? The date you keep harassing me about?¡±


    Cecil casually as he cleaned his glasses. ¡°That¡¯s my suggestion. But I¡¯m sure there are other cases to solve as well.¡±


    ¡°So what happens to the next victim? Do we shrug that off as well?¡± Adam bristled.


    ¡°Some people just die. That¡¯s nature.¡±


    Adam snapped. ¡°People are going to keep dying if we don¡¯t do anything about it. All you have done is complain, and act like other people¡¯s lives are nothing! why become a detective in the first place?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, pretty bo-¡±


    ¡°I said stop it!¡±


    Adam shoved past his partner as we walked out on the street. Cecil watched Adam¡¯s shoulders rise and fall with deep breaths. After several minutes of tense silence, Adam spoke.


    ¡°You can head back, I can do this myself.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to?¡±


    ¡°You can do what you want. I¡¯m going to start on the other houses.¡±

 The Most Astute Deduction

    Adam was already done with ten houses and had yet to be successful. Either the residents don¡¯t answer, or they have no new information on the case. Despite the overwhelming disappointment, Adam was determined. If they failed to find the killer, people would keep dying and it¡¯d be all his fault.


    Adam walked down the stairs of the duplex and went onto the next one, hands in pockets. The street was cold and empty, a desolate expanse that seemed to stretch endlessly into the night. Dim, flickering lamps cast eerie shadows along the eroded cobblestone paths, The shopping district was home to some of the poorest citizens in London.


    Old, abandoned storefronts had been bought by opportunistic landowners. These proprietors leased the dilapidated buildings to people desperate for affordable shelter. The roofs of each structure sagged under the weight of neglect, rotted through from years of relentless rainfall. The windows, still boarded up from the days of the window tax, stood as silent witnesses to a bygone era of hardship.


    The alleyways, choked with garbage and shards of broken glass, painted a grim picture of urban decay. Adam remembered vividly the days when he would ride through these streets in a carriage with his father. His father, peering out of the window, would sneer at the residents and derisively call them "rats." To avoid his father¡¯s ire, Adam would force a laugh, but inside, he felt a pang of guilt and sorrow for the people they mocked. He went to sleep in his expansive filled with all the books he could hope for, but thought of the empty lowered faces of the people of the shopping district. This place always reminded him of less happy times.


    Adam couldn''t help but repeatedly look over his shoulder, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and regret. The darkness seemed to close in around him, and the silence was almost oppressive. Cecil was nowhere to be found. Maybe he really had left.


    Adam regretted every harsh word he had uttered. Because of his inabilty to control his emotions, he found himself alone, wandering the deserted streets in the dead of night, searching for a killer. The world felt starkly empty without Cecil by his side. He missed Cecil''s smooth voice, the way his words flowed like honey, his sharp, observant eyes that seemed to see through everything.


    He longed for the sound of Cecil¡¯s deep, hearty laugh, a sound that had brought warmth to even the darkest moments. He missed the quirky habit Cecil had of constantly adjusting his glasses, a small, endearing gesture that had quickly become familiar. It amazed Adam how quickly he had grown accustomed to Cecil''s presence, a man he had known for less than a day. He wondered if this was how he was supposed to feel about women.


    Adam approached the next door with a weaning sense of optimism. After a knock, he waited for a few moments until a middle-aged woman with a ragged dress and shoulder-length black hair answered the door.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Good evening, ma¡¯am,¡± Adam held up his badge once again. ¡°I¡¯m here on behalf of Scotland Yard to investigate the recent murders.¡±


    ¡°Oh, those! I¡¯ve been looking over my shoulder every time I go out! Have you guys found any suspects?¡±


    ¡°Not yet ma¡¯am. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here today. Do you know anyone with the initials ¡®MA?¡¯¡¯¡±


    ¡°Are you bloody kidding me? Not a single suspect? Incompetent men are the death of me.¡±


    Adam shifted awkwardly.


    ¡°Oh, but now that you mention it, those were the initials of my ex-boyfriend. Another useless man that I hate.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. What was his name?¡±


    ¡°Mickey Andrews. Last I heard he worked as a carpenter at Max¡¯s Carpentry, but who knows what that hornswoggler is up to now.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Haha! Don¡¯t even get me started!¡± The woman announced, but it seemed to Adam she did indeed want to talk about it.


    ¡°That pigeon-livered ratbag cheated on me with two different women! Slimy bastard. Once when I was heading home from the boutique, he and another lady were in my bed! I threw a few plates at the bastard but he left peacefully. A few weeks he came crawling back saying that he loved me so I let him stay. It was less than a week before he was with another woman! Lying man!¡± She shrieked.


    ¡°I see. Was he around lots of women then?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, when he wasn¡¯t doing anything else he was chatting with a lady friend. I feel foolish I didn¡¯t see it sooner but he was always so nice to me, look!¡±


    The woman flung a necklace in Adam¡¯s face. He grabbed it. It was a rose gold locket with a small pedant. He opened it to see a photo of a pale balding man.


    ¡°Is this Mr. Andrews?¡±


    ¡°It is. He gave it to me on our second date. I¡¯ve never been given something so nice.¡±


    ¡°Do I mind if I keep this?¡± Adam asked.


    ¡°Oh sure, I have no use for it now. Any less reminder of the man the better. I was going to pawn it but whatever.¡±


    Adam placed the necklace in his front left pocket and reached to his right to grab a handful of silver coins.


    ¡°Here, please take this.¡±


    The woman''s eyes nearly popped out of her head.


    ¡°Good lord man!¡± Is this all for me? She squealed taking the money out of his hand. ¡°If you get paid this good then maybe I¡¯ll consider becoming a detective myself!¡±


    Adam laughed. ¡°We¡¯d appreciate your help. Can I have your name in case I need to follow up on anything about this Mickey Andrews?¡±


    ¡°Of course. The name¡¯s Natalia Murphey. Write me anytime hun!¡± She winked.


    ¡°Ha, sure. One last thing: Do you know where I can find Max¡¯s Carpentry?¡±


    ¡°Of course, darling. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    The woman stepped back into a far room. After a bit of shuffling, she came back with a newspaper clipping and a pen.


    ¡°The address is 2401 East Lockwood.¡± She wrote on the paper as she spoke. ¡°Here, if you forget it¡¯s written on this. Have a good one, hun!¡±


    ¡°You too, Miss Murphey,¡± Adam descended down the stairs. ¡°And please stay safe!¡± The woman waved Adam goodbye and then shut his door.


    Adam walked down the street with a renewed sense of optimism. He fingered the golden necklace in his hand. He even managed to get new evidence! He was about to approach another door when he remembered the message he received: To meet at the Yard in three hours. By the time he caught a carriage and made it back, it would be time to meet He looked around for Cecil once more, unfortunately, the street was as desolate as before. Hopefully, he made it back on his own.


    Cecil picked up his glass and chugged its contents. He placed it back down on the cocktail table.


    ¡°¡®Wanna refil?¡±


    Cecil looked up. A heavy-beared bartender was staring down at him, pitcher in hand.


    ¡°No thanks.¡±


    ¡°Alright then.¡± The bartender left Cecil in the corner of the bar.


    He gazed around the small establishment, noting the wear and tear that spoke of better days long past. The wooden tables and desks bore countless chips and scratches, scars from years of use and neglect. Like most other buildings in the area, the windows were boarded up. The walls were stained red brick, their color muted by layers of grime and smoke. Scuffed floorboards creaked underfoot, adding to the sense of decay. Flickering lamps hung on each interior wall, casting an eerie, uneven orange light.


    The stuffy air reeked of stale whiskey and beer, a thick miasma that clung to everything. A few other patrons were scattered throughout the bar, each absorbed in their own world. At one table, a tired, soot-covered young man was downing a glass every minute, his eyes glazed over and distant. Nearby, a couple sat in animated conversation. The woman, with greasy brown hair pulled into a bun, wore a blue blouse and a worn skirt. Across from her, a middle-aged man held a bottle of beer in one hand, while the other hand gesticulated wildly to a wild tale he was telling his female companion


    At the far end of the cocktail table where Cecil was sitting, a nervous-looking girl, not over the age of sixteen, fidgeted with her headscarf. She had a face full of makeup, but her tangled red hair looked dirty and unkempt. She clasped a full glass of beer with both hands, her fingers trembling. Her fingers were dressed with expensive-looking rings. A golden band hung on her left arm. Her eyes darted around the room, filled with a mix of apprehension and fear. Cecil¡¯s gaze fell on a delicate rose gold chain hanging from her neck, its subtle glimmer catching the flickering light. Cecil slid over to her.


    The young girl took a double take. Her fidgeting got faster and she looked terrified.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± She demanded. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Cecil said causally. He leaned back to get a better look at her necklace.


    ¡°Where¡¯d you get that?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She followed his gaze to her locket. She grabbed it protectively. ¡°This is mine. What do you want?¡± She demanded again. ¡°Ya¡¯ creeping me out. I saw you staring at me all the way over there.¡±


    ¡°Is it from a boyfriend?¡±


    She seemed taken aback at this comment and clutched her locket harder.


    ¡°Are you spying on me? Go away!¡±


    Cecil dug around in his pocket and pulled out a mountain of coins.


    ¡°I¡¯ll trade you for it.¡± He suggested.


    ¡°Are you kidding me? What for?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have all day.¡± Cecil sighed.


    ¡°Oh, right I guess.¡±


    The girl removed her necklace and cautiously placed it in front of Cecil. She eyed him suspiciously until turning her attention to the coins in her hand.


    ¡°This-this is three pounds!¡± She exclaimed. ¡°Why would you give me all this for some lousy necklace?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m feeling generous,¡± He shrugged. ¡°But to repay my overwhelming kindness, you can answer a few of my questions.¡±


    ¡°What are you a copper? Well, I guess, whatever.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± He grinned. ¡°First, what¡¯s the name of your ¡®boyfriend¡¯? And does he happen to have the initials ¡®MA¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Yeah he does, Mickey Andrews? How do you know? ¡®He do something?¡± She asked with wide eyes.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to figure out. Would it not surprise you if he did?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that. I just, I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Ok. Next question: What are you doing here, are you waiting for someone?¡±


    ¡°No, not really.¡±


    ¡°Then, are you hiding from someone?¡±


    ¡°All these questions are creeping me out, man. What are you trying to do.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just move on. Are you aware of all the murders going around the area?¡±


    ¡°Yes, how could I not?¡±


    ¡°Do you know a woman named Natalie Halls? Or Mashida Floyd? Harris Strong, Hedi Smith, Rosie Case. Any of these names ring a bell.¡±


    The girl¡¯s face turned pale, but she didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Last question. Are you a prostitute?¡±


    ¡°...Who are you?¡±


    Cecil chuckled, leaning forward on the table, and putting his face in his hands.


    ¡°I think I got a clear picture of what¡¯s going on. If I may, Miss?¡± He said, asking for permission to explain.


    ¡°You¡¯re a mad man.¡±


    Cecil took that as his sign to continue.


    ¡°As you may see if you look around the bar, the main patrons of this place are laborers and men. So when I walked in and saw a little girl sitting at the bar, I was intrigued. I decided to get a closer look. I noticed the face of makeup, I¡¯d assume quite an effort was put into that. But what girl would spend her time putting on makeup just to go out at night? Then, I noticed all your jewelry. Very impressive that a little girl could afford all that. But the truth is, you didn¡¯t. They were gifts. From clients. Like this locket.¡± He said dangling the gold chain in his hand with a grin. ¡°It makes sense after all. How could you afford expensive jewelry but not have the money to afford clothes, or soap for your hair? But then I had the question ¡®Maybe she¡¯s not a prostitute and works in some other obscure line of work.¡¯ But all your little friends would prove me otherwise. I¡¯ve seen this same exact necklace today. Two in fact. Wanna guess where?¡±


    The girl avoided his gaze.


    ¡°In the evidence room. Found on the body of two different dead women.¡±


    The girl tensed up.


    ¡°Like any good detective, I decided to follow up on the victim. She was a well-known prostitute. Just like all the other female victims. I knew it wasn¡¯t a coincidence. You know it too. Who wouldn¡¯t notice that all their coworkers, wearing the same necklace, hanging out with the same client slowly disappearing and coming up dead? Mickey Andrews isn¡¯t your boyfriend, he is a client. And that¡¯s why you are here, in a rundown bar, constantly looking over your shoulder. In a way, you are waiting for someone. Waiting for Mr. Andrews to come and kill you like the rest.¡±


    The girl let out a wretched sob.


    ¡°And now I will answer your question. I gave you one pound for a train ticket to get as far from the shopping district as you can, otherwise, you will meet your certain demise. The second pound is for this lovely piece of evidence I acquired from you. The last is for the list of every living coworker you have that you will write for me. Otherwise, they all die.¡±


    ¡°You are crazy!¡± She sobbed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry doll, I have paper and a pen right here.¡± Cecil pulled a notepad and pen out of his pocket. ¡°I recommend you get writing."

 Mouse in a Trap

    ¡°Clarke! There you are!¡± Ironheel turned around and greeted Adam as we walked through the door with a warm smile and laugh. ¡°Any luck?¡± He asked.


    ¡°It took a bit, but yeah.¡± Adam held up the dainty rose-gold necklace. ¡°A woman named Natalia Murphey gave me this. She said it was from her ex-boyfriend Mickey Andrews. MA.¡±


    Monica and Ironheel gaped at the locket.


    ¡°Is that?¡±


    Monica ripped it from Adam¡¯s grasp and held it up to the light, examining it closely with twinkling azure eyes.


    ¡°It is! Ironheel, look! It¡¯s the same necklace!¡± She opened the locket and peered at the pictured man inside. His gaunt cheeks and thinning hair matched the other. ¡°It¡¯s the same man too!¡± She shrieked.


    ¡°Same what? She said that was her boyfriend.¡±


    ¡°So this is Mickey Andrews?¡± Monica asked.


    ¡°I¡¯d assume so.¡±


    Ironheel sauntered over and looked over Monica¡¯s shoulder at the locket.


    ¡°Well, I be damned?¡±


    ¡°What are you guys talking about?¡± Adam inquired, dumbfounded.


    ¡°Well, do you think he¡¯s the killer?¡± Moncia said turning to the inspector, ignoring Adam¡¯s question.


    ¡°We can¡¯t say yet but this is certainly enough to at least detain and question the man. Clarke, did she tell you where he can be found?¡±


    Adam brought his hand to his chin. ¡°She told me he worked at a place called. Max¡¯s Carpentry. She even wrote down the address.¡± He said pulling the thin slip from his pocket. ¡°It¡¯s right her-¡± Ironheel snatched it from his hand.


    ¡°2401 East Lockwood.¡± He read. This is about an hour away from the Yard. Ironheel looked over at the clock, a half past two. Unfortunately, it¡¯s a bit late. We can go there first thing tomorrow. His gaze shifted towards Monica, placing a giant hand on each shoulder.


    ¡°It seems you were right all along, Miss Moore! Your investigating skills saved the day. We might have found our killer!¡± He boomed. ¡°You set a great example for your peers, Miss Moore!¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m the one who found the evidence and the address!¡± His voice tinged with frustration. Once again, he was ignored.


    ¡°Say,¡± Ironheel said looking around the room. ¡°Where¡¯s Hans at?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not here?¡±


    ¡°No, you guys were supposed to work together!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll show up.¡±


    ¡°He better!¡± Ironheel scolded. ¡°You can take a page out of Moore¡¯s book, Clarke!¡±


    Adam sighed.


    ¡°If Shorty doesn¡¯t show up in fifteen minutes go looking. Other than that I have more business for you two today. Good work! I have some work to attend to at the station.¡±


    Ironheel sauntered out the door and down the darkness-drowned street.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    Adam turned around. He was greeted by Monica. She stood smiling with her hands held behind her back.


    ¡°Good job!¡± She praised.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± He replied with a dismissive tone. ¡°You seem to be popular here.¡±


    Monica giggled warmly. ¡°Maybe so! I worked with most of these bobbies for years. What about you, how long you¡¯ve been a detective?¡±


    ¡°Oh, a few years. Because of my father¡¯s connections, I was promoted to detective right away. Never actually had to do any of the work.¡±


    ¡°Ha! You got a shortcut didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Sure did.¡±


    She laughed again and scooted closer towards Adam.


    ¡°So, what happened with Detective Hans?¡±


    ¡°What? What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯d he leave?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Just an argument.¡± Adam responded curtly.


    ¡°Ah, I thought he did something.¡±


    ¡°How come?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She said, shuffling her feet oddly. ¡°He seems suspicious. I don¡¯t know why the Yard would hire a person like that.¡±


    ¡°He does good work.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so. But nobody comes from nowhere.¡±


    The duo quieted and listened to the typewriter clicks of the diligent bobbies.


    ¡°So, I guess I should ask. What the hell were you two talking about earlier?¡±


    ¡°Ah, the locket thing? Well, we found two identical necklaces to the one you found today. Both were found on two separate bodies. Same picture and everything. Picture of Mickey Andrews.¡±


    ¡°Why would he give out multiple necklaces to several different women with the same picture of his face inside then go on to kill them?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know the motive yet, but all evidence points to this Mickey Andrews.¡±


    Adam thought to himself for a few moments. A feeling of doubt grew in his mind.


    ¡°I mean why would he? He could¡¯ve just taken the necklaces after killing them. It had a picture of his face after all. It seems too perfect.¡± He met Monica¡¯s gaze. ¡°Maybe they were planted.¡±


    Monica guffawed. Placing her thin hands over her mouth.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°You are too funny! We have all the evidence in the world to incriminate a man and now you doubt it?¡±


    Adam was silent.


    ¡°Evidence dictates the law, not opinion. As things stand, Mickey Andrews is the only known suspect so he is who we shall arrest. If more evidence comes up, then obviously there would be some reconsidering but we¡¯ll cross that bridge when we come to it.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± He still wasn¡¯t convinced.


    ¡°Well, I best be going.¡± She added. ¡°If Hans doesn¡¯t return feel free to write me, I¡¯ll help find him! She waved goodbye and left without another word.


    Adam sat on the curb outside the Yard, his eyes scanning the street for any sign of Cecil. The flickering gas lamps cast eerie shadows through the dense fog that clung to the city, obscuring everything beyond a few feet. Each passing carriage heightened his anxiety, but none bore his friend. The longer he waited, the more his worry grew.


    The oppressive darkness seemed to press down on him Just then, he heard the approaching sound of footsteps approaching through the fog. They stopped directly in front of him. Adam looked up to see Cecil standing there, his face half-hidden in the dim light.


    "Did you walk all the way here?" Adam asked, his voice edged with concern.


    "No," Cecil replied calmly. "I had some errands to attend to down the street."


    "That took three hours?" Adam''s skepticism was clear.


    "That''s not all I did." Cecil reached into his breast pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. "These are the names of the next possible victims, in no particular order."


    Adam took the paper, frowning. "What are you talking about?"


    Unfolding the list, he read.


    Charlotte Evans, Amelia Thompson, Olivia Wright, Alice Lotusburg, Emily Baker, Isabella Harrison, Natalia Murphy, Grace Turner, Sophia Wilson, Lily Mitchell


    "Is this a joke? Where did you get this?" Adam''s eyes searched Cecil''s face for answers.


    "It''s a long story," Cecil said, avoiding the question.


    "Are you going to tell me?" Adam pressed.


    "I promise it''s not important."


    "Yeah, sure. Ironheel is going to want to see this."


    "I know," Cecil conceded.


    Adam examined the list again before handing it back.


    "I met Natalia Murphy today."


    "Then she''s a prostitute and might get killed if this case isn''t solved," Cecil said bluntly.


    Adam didn¡¯t really know what to say to this. Maybe the sleep deprivation was getting to his head.


    "There''s something else," Cecil added, pulling a tarnished locket from his jacket.


    Adam sighed deeply. "God damn it."


    "Familiar then? It seems to be a marker for the victims."


    "But not all of them had one," Adam pointed out.


    Cecil shrugged, and a heavy silence settled between them.


    "Look, Cecil, I''m sorry about earlier," Adam said, breaking the quiet.


    Cecil didn''t respond.


    "I don''t really know what came over me. I was just tired and upset. So¡ªI don''t know. I''m sorry."


    "It''s not that big of a deal, pretty boy. I already forgot about it," Cecil finally said.


    "Oh." Adam looked down, feeling a mixture of relief and awkwardness.


    Cecil chuckled. "It''d do you good not to overthink so much."


    "Your snobbish attitude is starting to get on my nerves," Adam retorted, though there was no real malice in his voice.


    "Ha! Who''s the snob, rich boy?" Cecil shot back with a grin.


    "Whatever,"


    Cecil yawned. ¡°I¡¯m gonna head home.¡±


    "Not yet,¡± Adam said standing up. ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    "Alright.¡±


    Adam began walking down the street, signaling Cecil to follow, the cold air settling in their bones.


    ¡°I think there¡¯s more to this case than we think.¡± Adam began.


    ¡°Oh. This isn¡¯t the talk I thought it was going to be.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious, I want you to listen. I mean what kind of murderer leaves a memento of their face in a locket on a bunch of victims they murder? It¡¯s not logical.


    ¡°Murderers don¡¯t tend to be logical people.¡±


    ¡°I know that! But this seems like too big of a screw-up.¡±


    ¡°What are you suggesting? Framing.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But it¡¯s weird how a bunch of victims have the lockets but a lot don¡¯t. That list you gave me had potential victims. If you are crazy, then that¡¯s still missing a big chunk of a killer¡¯s preferred victims. The list was all women. But the killer murders both women and minorities. If he marks some victims with a locket then what about the other non-marked woman? Or the men?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s multiple people.¡±


    ¡°Could be. But that still wouldn¡¯t explain who and why one would leave a photo of their or someone else¡¯s face at the crime scene.¡±


    ¡°You bring up a good point there.¡±


    ¡°I explained this to Monica, she got super defensive.¡±


    ¡°You think she¡¯s sideways?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. She seems really dedicated to this whole ¡®justice¡¯ thing. But I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Yes actually. She said you were suspicious, which is true. What do you have planned?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what you''re talking about, my dear Adam.¡±


    Adam stopped in his tracks turning and grasping Cecil by both shoulders.


    ¡°I¡¯m being serious! I¡¯ll report you both if I have to!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to worry about, good lord, you are quite uptight.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m so sorry things have just been so stressful.¡±


    Cecil pried a hand off his shoulder.


    ¡°Someone could use a break.¡± He giggled. ¡°Or I could help you mellow out.¡±


    Adam gaped at Cecil. His sharp ocean-blue eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief, his perfectly styled hair falling in soft waves that framed his face exquisitely. That infuriatingly charming smirk played on his lips¡ªa look Adam had grown to both loathe and crave. The day''s chaos spun in Adam''s mind: thirteen murders, four lockets, and the most mesmerizing man he had ever encountered.


    Every logical part of Adam''s brain screamed to focus on the mission, that this was wrong, to push aside the distracting allure of this near-stranger. Yet, Cecil had a way of burrowing under his skin. Adam leaned in closer, their breaths mingling in the scant space between them.


    He heard Cecil''s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with anticipation as they met Adam''s. His resolve crumbled, his need overpowering all else. He closed the remaining distance, their lips brushing together in a tantalizingly soft kiss.


    Adam''s hand trembled as he delicately cupped Cecil''s face, his thumb brushing lightly against his cheek. Time seemed to stand still in those blissful moments, their connection deepening with every second. The kiss, tender and exploratory, felt like an eternity yet ended all too soon.


    They pulled back, breathless, their eyes still locked in a heated gaze. Adam''s heart pounded in his chest, every inch of his body alight with the intensity of their brief, electrifying contact. Cecil¡¯s shocked and wanting gaze softened as he let out a laugh as he straightened his lapels


    ¡°When I said I could help you ¡®mellow out¡¯ I meant take you out for a drink, nothing more. But I think your idea was better.¡±


    ¡°Oh my god.¡±


    Adam quickly shoved Cecil away by his chest and placed a trembling hand over his mouth.


    ¡°It¡¯s fi-¡±


    ¡°No! It¡¯s not! It¡¯s wrong, It¡¯s illegal!¡±


    Adam didn¡¯t know what to do with himself. He finally knew what he truly wanted. What he¡¯s been running from all his life. Cecil was all he could think about. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn¡¯t help himself. What was so wrong about love?


    Adam was broken out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He turned around. Cecil was smiling at him softly.


    ¡°It¡¯s ok,¡± Cecil told him in a tone softer than he had ever heard him speak in.


    Adam looked away, ¡°It¡¯s not normal,¡± He whispered barely audibly.


    ¡°Who cares?¡± Cecil asked with a smirk. ¡°Though, maybe not a thing to do in public.¡± He removed his hand but leaned in close.


    ¡°We can always finish this at my apartment.¡± He suggested. ¡°Do you have petroleum jelly?¡±


    ¡°What? Oh! No, no we aren¡¯t doing that. It¡¯s late and I¡¯m tired.¡±


    ¡°Aw,¡± Cecil replied with disappointment. ¡°Maybe tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about all of that.¡± He said with a reddening face. ¡°But I should get going. Make sure to give the evidence to Ironheel tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Will do.¡±

 The First Act

    The Yard was in an uproar. Even more so than usual. As soon as Adam walked in, he was pushed aside by a distressed officer. Then, he noticed bobbies running in and out of the building with boxes. Boxes of evidence. His heart sank.


    ¡°Oh, Adam! Thank god you¡¯re here!¡± Monica moaned. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s terrible!¡± She said, shaking her head.


    ¡°Why, what happened?¡± He asked, but he already knew.


    ¡°Another woman was murdered.¡±


    Adam¡¯s face fell. They were too late. All that effort and investigation. All the new leads. Things were starting to go their way finally. But alas, it was all for naught.


    ¡°Who?¡± He said curtly, trying to mask his immense disappointment.


    ¡°I believe her name was Natalia Murphey. Murdered inside her own home. Shopping district too.¡±


    His heart sank. Things went from the frying pan into the fire. It seems Cecil¡¯s list was correct.


    ¡°Miss Murphey,¡± He gasped out. ¡°She is who I talked to yesterday. She is who gave me the locket.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Adam,¡± Monica shocked her head gravely, eyes downcast. ¡°But there was nothing we could¡¯ve done. We just need to do our best to investigate now, or more will fall victim. Ironheel wants us all on the scene this time. The body is still there.¡±


    Monica tried to think of something to say in condolence, but her mind was blank. Instead, she nodded and headed towards the evidence room.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait for you.¡± She said. ¡°Once you are ready, we will head out.¡±


    ¡°Nothing we could¡¯ve done, huh?¡± He asked himself. A woman gave him a locket the majority of the victims have. Cecil gave him a list of potential victims and her name was on it. He ignored all the blaring signs. This was more than a small oversight. A woman died because of him. Was it right to consider himself a detective?


    ¡°I was worried I¡¯d forget but I didn¡¯t. I brought the evidence just as you asked, Adam!¡±


    Adam turned around towards the grating voice he loved. But now was not the time for that.


    Cecil held the list from last night up to his chest. The locket swung back and forth on his little finger. His smirk faltered as he looked around the room at all the solemn faces.


    ¡°Oh my,¡± He began. ¡°Aren¡¯t you all a sorry bunch? Who died?¡±


    Adam approached Cecil with a lifted hand. He placed it on Cecil¡¯s shoulder, turning them around as they spoke hushedly.


    ¡°It was the woman I told you about. For better or worse, it seems your list is correct. Where did you get it?¡±


    ¡°I wish not to bore you with the details.¡± He responded. ¡°But I can assure you it¡¯s from a legitimate source.¡± He handed Adam the list and locket. ¡°I¡¯m sure Monica will take it better from you.¡± He remarked. ¡°But, I suppose we should head to the scene.¡±


    It was a gruesome sight. A dull orange gas lamp flickered in the far left corner of the small one-room flat. The walls were bare. A single twin bed sat beside the door. In the right corner, a soot-covered stove stood. An empty aluminum kettle sat on top of it. The trio turned their attention to the most eye-catching feature; a corpse. Natalia Murphey¡¯s lifeless body lay in a pool of blood, one arm outstretched.


    ¡°Wait, blood?¡± Monica mused. ¡°Haven¡¯t all the murders been poisonings? Why would she have bled.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s assuming it¡¯s the same person,¡± Adam suggested.


    ¡°It¡¯s likely.¡± Cecil countered. ¡°Besides, she had the locket and knew Mickey Andrews. Perhaps the killer was just in a hurry?¡±


    ¡°For what¡± Monica asked, eyes rolled up in thought. ¡°She already told Adam everything she knew, so it wasn¡¯t about information, otherwise she would have been murdered before. Of course, that is assuming that Andrews is the killer. Either way, chatting gets us nowhere.¡±


    Monica bent down towards the body. With a grimace, she grabbed the corpse by the arm and rolled it over. ¡°We should find the sign of trauma.¡±


    The two men nodded as they bent over to examine the body.


    Murphey wore the same ragged dress Adam had seen her in the day before. An orange wool-ragged dress was held together by patches made of several different fabrics. On her abdomen, a huge gash was cut through the dress and her skin. Blood slowly slipped into the surrounding fabric.


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    ¡°It seems she was stabbed,¡± Adam said motioning to the gash. ¡°Perhaps the weapons are around here somewhere.


    ¡°Unlikely,¡± Monica replied scanning the empty room. Not many places to hide it, we would have seen it straight away. If it¡¯s not in the body or in the flat, it¡¯s likely the murderer still has it. The bobbies have made zero mention of finding a weapon anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully it¡¯ll turn up once we investigate Andrews,¡± Adam said. ¡°How¡¯s that going anyhow?¡±


    ¡°Still trying to find his exact whereabouts,¡± Monica replied as she stood up dusting her hands. ¡°They found his workplace all we need is his address. Apparently, he hasn¡¯t gone to work in quite a while.¡±


    ¡°Killing is a time-consuming hobby,¡± Cecil chuckled. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope he¡¯s the guy we¡¯re looking for.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Adam glanced around the room another time. ¡°But it seems there is nothing else to do here.¡±


    ¡°Then you are not looking hard enough, my dear Adam.¡± Cecil laughed. ¡°Just look around.¡±


    ¡°At what?¡± Adam exclaimed. ¡°There is nothing!¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Cecil pointed at the chain lock on the door. ¡°Every house and apartment in this neighborhood is locked and bolted at all times. You are the one who walked door to door, Adam. Yet, there is no sign of forced entry, but the front door is the only way the killer should¡¯ve entered the room.¡±


    Monica brought her hand to her chin. ¡°So she must have let them in, which means she trusted them.¡± She turned towards Adam with an inquisitive expression. ¡°You said Mickey Andrews was her ex, right? Then perhaps she let him in.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± Adam responded. ¡°But by the way she talked, it seems they weren¡¯t on good terms. Besides, she knew he was a murder suspect. It seems unwise to let a possible killer inside your home.¡±


    ¡°Quite,¡± Cecil said. ¡°Besides there is the fact the murder method was different this time. It¡¯s likely it was a different killer.¡±


    ¡°That would make sense, If it was Mr. Andrews why would he let her live long enough to tell the police about him and then kill her after?¡±


    ¡°But how do we know Andrews killed even a single person? Why would two murderers have the same type of victims, kill at the same time intervals, and in the same area.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a way to throw us off our tracks?¡± Monica suggested. ¡°They could be working together.¡±


    ¡°Then why change up the murder method this single time?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting it¡¯s not so easy to poison someone without being noticed,¡± Cecil responded. ¡°Managing to kill multiple people with poison without being caught is impressive, but it seems their luck ran out somehow.¡± He motioned to Murphey¡¯s blood-soaked body. ¡°Things got messy. But still; how does one have access to the apartment of a victim but not have a time frame to poison them?¡±


    ¡°Maybe they snuck in when she was out?¡± Monica suggested. ¡°But got caught red-handed and had to kill her.¡±


    ¡°But it was overnight,¡± Adam suggested. I was here late last time and she was still here. What business would she have so late, especially with all the murders going on?¡±


    ¡°There are lots of unanswered questions.¡± Cecil bent down and examined the body one more time. ¡°And it seems we won¡¯t get any answers here.¡± He stood back up. ¡°We should focus on finding Andrews, and work from there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re right,¡± Adam sighed. ¡°Still, I can¡¯t believe I let this happen to Miss Murphey.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Monica''s eyes twinkled softly as she placed a hand gently on Adam¡¯s shoulder. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do for her now. Let¡¯s just try to solve this case to avenge her.¡± Cecil¡¯s eyes bore into the back of her head.


    She gave him a gentle smile as she retreated her hand. ¡°We should get out of here and rendezvous with Ironheel. We can tell him what we learned so far, albeit not a lot.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure.¡±


    ¡°The coroner will give her a proper autopsy and determine the certain cause of death. There¡¯s nothing else to do here. I¡¯ll get us a carriage.¡±


    Monica nodded and gracefully pivoted on her heels just in time to avoid colliding with an urgent figure.


    ¡°I apologize, ma¡¯am!¡± He said, with his hands clasped in front of him.


    ¡°It¡¯s quite alright,¡± she answered, flashing a warm smile. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°I have a message from Chief Enfield. They''ve apprehended Mickey Andrews and need one of you to head to the holding station, while the others search his flat.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Monica announced confidently.


    Adam hesitated, his hand moving to the back of his neck.


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about that. Maybe I sho-¡±


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± she responded firmly. ¡°I''ve got this. I¡¯m a detective, after all, and sitting around doing nothing is quite boring. What¡¯s the worst that can happen?¡±Adam hesitated for a second before speaking.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that, it just Ironheel didn¡¯t want you to go to the shopping district alone either. Being in front of an accused killer is much more dangerous. Plus, you have an eye for detail, we all know that. Perhaps I do it this time.¡±


    Monica was fuming. ¡°Now I¡¯m getting bloody sick of this! Why do I have to sit around doing all the busy work? I¡¯m more than a secretary you know!¡±


    ¡°You can talk to him after,¡± Adam suggested.


    She sighed out. ¡°Fine, it¡¯s whatever. I¡¯ll investigate Andrews''s flat with this scrub. But I¡¯d do a better job at questioning than you could ever hope to be!¡± She took a deep breath and turned back towards the officer.


    ¡°What¡¯s the address?¡±


    ¡°2208 Oak Drive.¡± It¡¯s about ten minutes away.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡± She glanced over at Cecil. ¡°I suppose we should get going.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± He said with an empty smile.


    Adam stood silently as he watched the two figures leave the dimly lit flat, the sound of their footsteps fading away.


    ¡°Detective Clarke, if I may?¡± The bobby''s voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    The man shifted awkwardly. ¡°The chief says the suspect isn¡¯t mentally stable. He advised me to tell you to choose your questions carefully, as the suspect hasn''t been very cooperative.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± He sighed.


    ¡°A-anyway, we should head back. Don¡¯t want to keep Enfield waiting.¡± The bobby''s nervous stammering betrayed his unease.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Adam replied, his eyes briefly flicking back to Murphey¡¯s lifeless body, sadness evident in his eyes. ¡°Will the coroner be here soon?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. He¡¯s scheduled to arrive any second.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Adam nodded, his thoughts already wandering to the next steps in the investigation.


    The bobby gestured for Adam to follow as they made their way out of the flat, to the foggy street.

 The Petals of Resolve

    The flat was even more sad than Miss Murphey¡¯s. It was a small square room with maroon carpets and stained orange walls. At the back end was a small kitchen with cracked white tile. And a grime-covered countertop with rotten food collecting flies and maggots A purple couch sat in the middle of the room torn to rags. It¡¯s stuffing strewn across the room. A coffee table with a broken leg sat haphazardly on it¡¯s side. The only standing piece of furniture was an iron desk in the right corner covered in a mountain of papers and photographs Cockroaches scattered across the floor and into small cracks in the walls.


    ¡°Verdammt!¡± Cecil exclaimed lifting his ankle at an approaching cockroach.


    Monica smirked. ¡°Bodies aren¡¯t a problem but cockroaches are?¡±


    Cecil huffed. ¡°A corpse won¡¯t crawl up my pant leg!¡±


    Monica groaned as she walked around the room, approaching the kitchen. She bent down towards the rotten food, holding her hair back.


    ¡°How could this food be rotten? He¡¯s been in custody less than a day.¡±


    ¡°Lots of killers don¡¯t operate in their households to avoid leaving behind evidence in the place that will be searched first. That of course, is assuming he is the killer. He could just be unsanitary.¡±


    ¡°You really narrowed it down there.¡± She sighed. She revolted her face back at the stench.


    ¡°Good lord,¡± Cecil mused.


    ¡°What?¡± Monica turned around. Cecil stood at the desk, holding a photograph between his thumb and index finger.


    ¡°He has some interesting tastes!¡±


    Monica walked over to the raven-haired man, dodging the cockroaches nestling themselves in the carpet. She peered over his shoulder at the photograph he was holding; A woman, naked sitting on her knees fondling her breasts.


    ¡°Uh, ew!¡± She remarked. ¡°What a creep!¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± Cecil shuffled through the papers on the desk. More photographs of naked women, some men, in promiscuous positions. ¡°Well, this is a bit dodgy.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps he really is our guy. Most of the women killed were found naked.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± He responded, putting the photograph back and adjusting his glasses. ¡°But dirty pictures aren¡¯t enough. Most of the murders were done with poison, and the knife was missing from the latest scene. Perhaps we can find a murder weapon.¡±


    ¡°Great.¡± She exhaled. ¡°Nothing I want to do more than sift through this hellhole.¡±


    Adam hesitantly opened the door to the station; A bleak stuffy concrete building that smelled of mildew. In the front of the building, there was a large oak desk with a typewriter, a candlestick telephone, and a young woman with short vermillion hair with her face scrunched up in thought. She held a thin yellow paper file in her hand as she twirled her hair with the other. Behind her, there was a large iron door with a guard standing by, head down. Through the bars of the door, he could a lengthy hall with doors on each side. The only sound was the flickering of the lamps and the woman rhythmically kicking the back of the desk.


    Adam stood awkwardly shuffling his feet back and forth before he cleared his throat.


    ¡°Oh!¡± The woman snapped her neck up and greeted him with a sizeable smile. ¡°Ah, you must be Detective Clarke!¡± The woman quickly pushed herself out of her chair and speed walked towards Adam. ¡°I¡¯m Harriet Williams! The chief told me you would be here!¡± She offered a thin hand to Adam but pulled it back faster than he managed to shake it. ¡°Here to question Andrews I¡¯d assume?¡± Before he had time to answer, Harriet pulled a pair of keys out of the breast pocket of her red dress suit. ¡°The keys to his room. Last on the left!¡±


    ¡°Ah, thank you, Miss Williams.¡± He took the keys from her. ¡°One of the officers said something about him being unstable?¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± She patted her index finger against her cheek. ¡°Oh yes! After questioning his coworkers, they found out he was hiding out in his apartment. When they found him he was drunk on his couch. Hasn¡¯t been to work in three weeks. Once they apprehended him he was spouting incoherent nonsense. He¡¯s a bit delirious so this may not be a fruitful endeavor, but what can we do?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± He sighed. ¡°Thanks for the info, Harriet.¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course!¡± She patted Adam''s shoulder a bit forcefully. ¡°But I ought to get back to work!¡± She said hurrying back to her desk. ¡°If you have any troubles, get Paul!¡± She motioned to the guard by the door.


    Adam''s footsteps echoed hollowly as walked down the tight corridor. Heavy metal doors lined both sides, their surfaces marked with scratches and dents. He arrived at the final door and turned left. With a deep breath, he took the keys from his pocket, placing into the rusted keyhole and pushed the door open with a prolonged creek.


    Inside, the room''s walls were a dull green streaked with bumps caused by water damage.. A solitary barred window cast faint light into the dim space. Below it, a meager concrete ledge served as a bed, barely covered by a thin blanket. In the center of the room was an iron desk and two chairs on each side firmly anchored to the floor. Here sat a man, his hands bound behind the chair, head bowed beneath the weight of a thick, grime-streaked coat and worn black wool pants. Balding, with remnants of blond hair clinging to the sides of his head, his skin bore angry red welts tracing up his neck and across his hands, which twitched uncontrollably.


    The door slammed shut behind Adam, startling the man. With a sudden movement, he jerked his head up, cloudy blue eyes that locked onto Adam''s with an unsettling intensity. His dry, cracked lips moved soundlessly as he studied Adam, who shifted uncomfortably. After several moments of silence, the man spoke.


    ¡°You are¡­ A detective?¡± He muttered barely audibly


    ¡°Yes,¡± Adam sat down in the chair across from the man and dug his badge out his trenchcoat pocket. ¡°I¡¯m Detective Clarke. You must be Mickey Andrews?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s cut to the chase then.¡± Adam clasped his hands in front of him on the table. ¡°I¡¯m here about the recent murders in the shopping district. Would you know anything about that?¡±


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    The man didn¡¯t answer. He dropped his head back down and started at his shoes. Adam mentally groaned.


    ¡°It¡¯d benefit everyone if you answer my questions,¡± Adam said through thinly pressed lips. ¡°You are the only possible suspect currently and my colleagues are searching your flat. If you have nothing to say in your defense then this is a pretty open-and-shut case.¡±


    The man said nothing and he shuffled his feet.


    ¡°So, was it you then?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± The man cried out. He looked back up at Adam. ¡°No! No, it wasn¡¯t my idea! It¡¯s them!.¡± He sobbed.


    ¡°They? Who¡¯s they?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to. They said so.¡± The man droned on, ignoring Adam¡¯s question. ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to stop. They are trying to frame me! I-I can¡¯t stop, I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m so sor-¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s they?¡± Adam repeated, interrupting Andrews''s rant.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± He cried thrusting his body towards Adam. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but they¡¯ll kill me if I don¡¯t kill them, they will kill everyone!¡±


    ¡°Do you have any idea?¡± Adam asked calmly.


    Andrews seemed to be in a different world. He stopped responding to Adam¡¯s questioning and instead began chanting the phrase ¡®I¡¯m sorry¡¯ repeatedly. His twitching became more erratic and his voice more strained, instead, his words came out in wretched sobs. Adam wasn¡¯t sure what to do. This was outside is training. Luckily his guardian angels heard his prayers as he heard a knock on the door.


    ¡°Everything ok in there?¡± Asked the muffled voice of Harriet. ¡°We heard screaming all the way from my desk!¡±


    Adam swiftly stood up and unlocked the door. The petite woman stood with a concerned expression etched on her face. By her side, the gruff guard peered into the room, truncheon in hand.


    ¡°Somewhat,¡± Adam answered as he ran a hand through his hair. ¡°He basically admitted to it.¡±


    The duo seemed taken aback.


    ¡°Blazes! Did he?¡± Harriet ejaculated. ¡°Paul, did you hear that? I¡¯ll dial Enfield!¡± She hurried off to her desk leaving Adam and Paul standing in the doorway watching Mickey¡¯s breakdown.


    ¡°It seems your questioning is done here,¡± Paul stated.


    Adam watched Andrews¡¯s figure swing back and forth in his chair, trying to escape the handcuffs.


    ¡°It seems so.¡±


    Paul shook his head. ¡°All that searching just for the suspect to break under questioning straight away. A bit anticlimactic. Anyhoo, I¡¯ll take care of this guy. Gotta get him ready for his trial.¡±


    ¡°Ah, right.¡± Adam handed Paul the keys. With a nod, Paul entered the room leaving Adam alone in the corridor.


    Cecil hummed to himself as strode across the room. Monica sat on her knees going through a stack of paper she picked up from the desk.


    ¡°Anything yet?¡± Cecil called to her.


    ¡°No, not yet. But things would go by a lot quicker if you would actually help, you lusk!¡±


    She groused to herself as she sorted through the pile. They¡¯d searched through the entire apartment and nothing of substance had shown up besides a few questionable items and rotten food.


    ¡°Well, can you hurry it up?¡± Cecil asked leaning against the wall. ¡°This place is grossing me out.¡±


    ¡°Feel free to help anytime.¡± She grumbled. She sorted through the pile. Dirty photos, receipts, bills, nothing related to the murder.


    She sighed. ¡°This is painstaking. If he truly is the killer there has to be something! But where?¡±


    Cecil pushed away from the wall. ¡°Then maybe you are looking at it from the wrong angle, dear Monica!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that? But what do you mean?¡± She huffed. ¡°If you thought I was doing it wrong all this time why didn¡¯t you say something?¡±


    Cecil waltzed over to Monica and kneeled beside her.


    ¡°Well, we have all these photos, don¡¯t we? What woman would willingly pose this if not a prostitute? We¡¯ve learned so far the killer is most likely a client of the victims. So all we have to do is identify these women and see if any of the photographs are of the victims.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s gonna take a while. There is a proper load of them!¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°Well if multiple of them are murdered prostitutes, that can only mean one thing. No reason to study them all.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t wait for that.¡± She scoffed.


    Monica meticulously arranged the stack of photographs, straightening each one with care before dropping them into Cecil¡¯s lap.


    ¡°I did all the work. You will carry them back to the Yard! And hurry, time is of the essence, you know.¡±


    Cecil retorted, ¡°If I didn¡¯t correct you, you would still be looking through the papers! But fine, the sooner we get out of here, the better.¡±


    The duo rose from their seats and made their way out of the flat. As they approached the door, Cecil turned to Monica with a fake courteous gesture.


    ¡°After you, my lady!¡±


    ¡°Out of my way, ratbag!¡± She shoved him aside.


    Adam stood by Harriet¡¯s desk as she spoke with Enfield over the phone.


    ¡°Yes, I heard all the way from my desk!¡± Harriet told her. ¡°Andrews went crazy!¡±


    Harriet and Enfield chatted back and forth for a few minutes until Harriet laughed and ended the phone call with a ¡®buh, bye!¡¯ And hung up the phone.


    ¡°Alright, I told Enfield about the situation!¡± She said, turning towards Adam. She wants you to meet at Scotland Yard. Detective Moore and Hans are returning as well. You guys need to gather all the evidence to make a case, the attorney will do the rest.¡± Harriet took Adam¡¯s hands in her own as she danced around.


    ¡°You did! You finally did it! Now the people in the Shopping District don¡¯t need to live in fear!¡±


    ¡°Ah, you flatter me.¡± He chuckled. ¡°But I had lots of help. Including you.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± She giggled bringing her hand to her cheek. ¡°I am naught but a lowly secretary! Take a compliment!¡±


    ¡°Still, this cause isn¡¯t all solved. I haven¡¯t told you this part yet but Andrews said someone made him do it?¡±


    ¡°Someone?¡± She inquired. ¡°Perhaps it was just voices, he¡¯s not the most stable man.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so,¡± Adam mused. ¡°But he said if he didn¡¯t kill them, someone would kill him.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± She put her hands on her hips. ¡°I suppose I can tell the Yard to look into any recent contacts he¡¯s had. But it¡¯d be hard, tracking him down took us forever.¡±


    Adam smiled at her. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate that, Harriet. You¡¯ve been quite helpful, so thank you!¡±


    ¡°Oh, please!¡± She tittered, placing her hand on Adam¡¯s arm. ¡°But, you can always thank me another way. With this case practically closed, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll have a lot of free time! Maybe you take me out to dinner one day?¡±


    He laughed airily. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll see. Either, way I should get going.¡±


    ¡°Ah, of course, of course, don¡¯t want to hold you, my dear! Have a safe trip!¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Miss Williams,¡± He gave her a warm smile as he headed out the station, finally greeted with fresh air.

 Case Closed

    Adam huddled in Enfield¡¯s office with the two others peering around the room. The walls were stark white covered by several prestigious awards. On the left side, there was a huge portrait of her. Stern-faced with slicked-back blond hair tied up in a ponytail and striking red lipstick. She wore her uniform, A gray dress suit with her badge clipped to her collarbone. She held a pocket pistol.


    She sat at her expansive oak desk, crosslegged with a slight smile, the most expression any of them have seen on her.


    ¡°You three did a fine job. Because of your efforts, one of the most elusive serial killers was caught.¡±


    ¡°Murderer? Well, we don¡¯t know that for certain yet,¡± Monica interjected. ¡°Me and Cecil searched his flat and found no relevant evidence, however, we found photographs and hope we can see if they match any of the victims.


    Enfield¡¯s smile grew bigger as she lifted a hand towards Adam.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need,¡± She stated. ¡°Detective Clarke got a confession. No further investigating is needed on your part.¡±


    The two looked shocked.


    ¡°Did you?¡± Cecil asked wide-eyed.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ Can¡¯t believe it.¡± Monica whispered.


    Enfield receded her hand. ¡°As I said, great work. All I need from you three now is to collect all the evidence. The lockets with his face and the written testimony of the Murphey and his coworkers.¡±


    ¡°This is sudden,¡± Cecil mused, adjusting his glasses. ¡°Confession or not there are lots of unanswered questions.¡±


    Adam hesitated. ¡°He is right. We never found any defiant evidence like a murder weapon. Or found the answer to the strange circumstances of Miss Murphey¡¯s murder. Or what about that bear Monica found?¡±


    ¡°Or how he got poison in their system,¡± Monica added.


    Enfield laughed softly as she shook her head.


    ¡°How¡­ Endearing. Rookies are like horses, they can¡¯t see what is right in front of them. Mickey Andrews is the only possible suspect, and he admitted. It doesn¡¯t get much more official than that.¡±


    ¡°Bu-¡±


    Enfield put her hand up to hush her. ¡°Enjoy your victory. Your work is practically done. But if you have any doubts, feel free to bring me who you guys believe the true killer is.¡±


    They were silent.


    ¡°Again, better sooner than later. The evidence is where you left it; the evidence room. You can collect the testimonies from the inspector.¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am if I may?¡± Adam said carefully in order not to upset the person you are speaking to.


    ¡°Speak.¡± She sighed.


    ¡°The suspec- er, killer said something about something ordering him to do it-¡±


    ¡°Yes, Harriet called me,¡± She said, interrupting him. ¡°It¡¯s a common case. A crazed killer hears voices in their head demanding them to kill someone. It¡¯s more common than you think. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°....No.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± She propped up her face with her hand. ¡°If there is nothing else, finish the job.¡± Her smile returned. ¡°But not everything is so dark and dreary. As an award for catching the infamous killer, as well as solving your first murder cases, you three will get a celebration.¡±


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    ¡°Oh. Thanks,¡± Monica laughed nervously. She twirled a blond lock around her finger. ¡°What about Andrews¡¯s trial?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. We already have a prosecutor lined up, however nobody was willing to defend the accused. The trial a formality.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Adam looked over at Cecil who wore an unreadable expression.


    ¡°But now, quit stalling, or I will have you arrest you three under the suspicion of being accomplices!¡± She laughed.


    ¡°So is this it?¡± Monica asked nodding towards the box in front of them


    ¡°Yes,¡± Cecil replied. ¡°The lockets and testimonies are all in there.¡±


    Adam looked inside the box. Several cream paper lockets were lined up in the box. Each had a label with the letter ¡®L¡¯ and a number one through 3. The testimonies were in a larger yellow file, simply labeled with ¡®T¡¯¡±


    ¡°So, what happens with the left over evidence, the ones not relevant to the case?¡±


    ¡°Destroyed,¡± Monica answered.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t that, doesn¡¯t that seem a bit weird?¡± Adam commented. ¡°They were found at the crime scene, they have to mean something!¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Monica shrugged. ¡°But frankly, there¡¯s little point when there is so much pointing towards Andrews all ready. Better to lock him away quickly.¡±


    ¡°No, doesn¡¯t all this seem weird?¡± Adam said in a hushed tone. ¡°Andrews told me he was ordered to kill them. And isn¡¯t it a bit hard to kill so many people in such a short period of time? Maybe there is another suspect.¡±


    ¡°But there is no evidence of that.¡± Monica countered. ¡°If I¡¯m honest, he seems like the type, and no one else was around. Whether he was told to or not isn¡¯t relevant right now. He chose to commit the murders. He will face the punishment.¡±


    ¡°But-¡± Adam let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°What do you think?¡± He asked wheeling around towards Cecil.


    ¡°I don¡¯t really care. It will all become true within time. If people keep dying then we put away the wrong guy. If not, he is in his proper place!¡±


    ¡°But we can¡¯t wait until other people die to find the truth!¡± He retorted.


    ¡°Be that as it may, all evidence points to him. If we doubt every decision we make nothing would get done. Are you finished?¡±


    Adam sighed. ¡°Whatever, Cecil. Anyhoo, who actually does this evidence go to?¡±


    ¡°Harriet Williams.¡± I believe. Monica picked up the box. ¡°She should be at the station. She will keep hold of this until the prosecutor fetches it for the trial.¡±


    ¡°So then, we are finished?¡±


    ¡°For now at least! But a true detective¡¯s job is never complete!¡±


    ¡°Cute,¡± Cecil quipped. ¡°But the sooner you drop that box off the sooner I can leave?¡±


    ¡°Me? You¡¯ve done nothing! Why don¡¯t you do it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m shy,¡±


    ¡°This is ridiculous!¡± She lifted he finger ¡°I just want to say that-¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should just do it,¡± Adam suggested. ¡°You said yourself you don¡¯t want to sit around doing nothing.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± She snapped. ¡°So you too can get it on when I¡¯m gone? Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t all the weird stuff between you too! Any more of this and I¡¯ll report you both t-¡±


    ¡°My, you talk a lot.¡± Cecil mused. ¡°You would have made a great secretary, it¡¯s a shame you are wasting your talents playing pretend detective.¡±


    ¡°Arg! I¡¯m leaving.¡± She kicked open the door and stormed off. ¡°Miserable sods! Can¡¯t believe I got stuck with such stupid men! They are always the same, I swear!¡± Her voice slowly faded.


    ¡°Something¡¯s seriously wrong with you!¡± Adam snapped, forcefully shoving Cecil¡¯s arm. ¡°She¡¯s our colleague, and more competent than you, for that matter!¡±


    ¡°She just annoyed me,¡± Cecil shrugged dismissively. ¡°Besides, someone had to drop off the box. On another note,¡± he leaned in closer to Adam, ¡°what about dinner now that everything¡¯s sorted? You promised!¡±


    ¡°You must be out of your mind!¡± Adam retorted, pushing past Cecil as he stormed towards the exit. ¡°Why would I want anything to do with you after that? And on top of that, she¡¯s suspicious.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a hard no,¡± Adam interrupted firmly, adjusting his coat as he stepped into the chilly air. ¡°Do something useful for once and hail us a cab. I¡¯m heading home.¡±


    ¡°Hmph! You lied to me!¡±


    Adam chuckled as he leaned casually against a streetlamp.


    ¡°Maybe if you can manage to behave until the celebration, I¡¯ll reconsider. Now, get that cab¡ªit¡¯s freezing out here.¡±

 A Formality

    Adam sat shoulder-to-shoulder with his colleagues on the benches of the courtroom. Large stained glass windows etched in each wall filtered the sun in a rainbow of colors onto the marbled floor in the courtroom. It¡¯s been four days since they¡¯ve got a confession out of Andrews and his long-awaited trial was to a close, tension in the air was palpable. The benches were lined with members of the law and citizens wanting to finally see the infamous killer get what was coming to him.


    On his left, Enfield sat legs-crossed with a stern expression. She has been waiting for this the longest. For months, murders have been going on with no leads. Not only were the citizens of London, especially the Shopping District living in fear, it was a severe black mark on her record. Cecil sat on his right, hair hanging over his face as he stared down at his kicking feet without a single care in the world. Adam still wondered how and why he took this job. Next to him, Monica sat with a contrasting expression; her eyes sharp and her mouth was downturned in a frown with her hands clasped in her lap. Adam scanned the rest of the room, she saw several bobbies, the inspector, and Harriet. In the front of the building were men and women with furious expressions who he assumed were the citizens.


    His eyes settled on the front of the courtroom. On the towering chair sat a serious-faced bearded judge, gavel in hand. Next to him were two desks. Behind one sat a sharp-looking prosecutor in a thin pressed suit and cravat straightening files against the desk.  Behind the other was an officer he recognized as Paul and Mickey Andrews in a stipped uniform and handcuffs. his face downcast. Things have not gone in his favor. He was without a defense attorney and evidence was pilled against him. Four witnesses testified claiming they saw Andrews in the area when the murders took place. Melecony relatives of the victims spoke about Andrews¡¯s relationship with the victims. The judge¡¯s stern eyes bore into Andrews¡¯s forehead. Adam was sure he made up his mind hours ago.


    With an echoing slam, the judge hit his hammer on the soundblock.


    ¡°It seems we have come to the conclusion of this trial.¡±


    The room was silent.


    ¡°Does the prosecution have anything else to add?¡±


    ¡°No, your Honor.¡± The well-dressed man replied.


    The judge nodded and turned his gaze towards Mickey, wearing the same look of disgust as earlier.


    ¡°Does the accused have anything to say on his behalf?¡±


    Andrews was silent.


    ¡°Then, if there are no further proceedings I shall pass my verdict.¡±


    He raised his gavel from the soundblock.


    ¡°I find Mickey Andrews guilty of fourteen counts of murder.¡± He boomed.


    There was shuffling and slight murmuring, but the atmosphere of the courtroom remained unchanged. Nobody was truly surprised.


    The judge went on. ¡°For these heinous acts, I sentence you to death by hanging. It shall be carried it three Sundays. Until then, you shall remain in your cell.¡±


    ¡°The gallery chirped at this one. People turned to each other with surprised and jovial faces. A woman sitting before Adam pushed on her husband¡¯s shoulder repeatedly asking ¡®did you hear that?¡¯


    Cecil lifted his head. ¡°Death?¡± Cecil guffawed. ¡°I better have time to see this one!¡±


    Andrews said nothing the entire time he was dragged out of the courtroom by Paul and the bailiff. He never looked up.


    The tension in the courtroom eased. The family of the victims surrounded the prosecutor''s desk praising him for his efforts. The judge nodded to a few joyous gallery members and receded into the backroom.


    Gallery members stood up and stretched, others chatting with each other about the hearing. Some expressed doubt while others said things like ¡®he got what was coming¡¯ or ¡®he deserved it.¡¯ Though, the general sentiment seems everyone saw it coming.


    ¡°That case was just out of etiquette!¡± He overheard Ironheel say. ¡°He¡¯s the only one who could have done it. Everyone here knows that.¡±


    A hand clasped on Adam¡¯s shoulder. He turned around. Monica was leaning over the back of the bench.


    ¡°Can you believe it?¡± Monica ejaculated, green eyes beaming with intensity. ¡°A death penalty!¡±


    ¡°Well, of course!¡± Adam shrugged. ¡°Fourteen murders isn¡¯t something to take lightly. The real surprise is they are letting him live for three more weeks.


    ¡°Still, it feels¡­ Fake.¡±


    "Excellent work, everyone!" boomed a voice. Ironheel approached them, his wide grin and outstretched arms exuding satisfaction. "Not that I ever doubted you!" He chuckled heartily.


    "Thank you, Inspector," Adam acknowledged with a nod. "What happens next?"


    "''What now?''" Ironheel erupted into laughter, clapping a paw on Adam''s shoulder. "This guy''s already thinking about his next job!"


    "Let it rest," Enfield interjected with a sigh, her first words since the start of the court case. Her expression remained neutral. "There are no further cases to investigate. Unless, of course, you''re eager to spend your time searching for lost cats. Enjoy your accomplishment."


    "She''s right," Monica chimed in. "No point in lingering here. Maybe we should check on Andrews. I''m curious to meet the man behind the crime!" She turned to Enfield with pleading eyes.


    "Technically, there''s no reason you can''t," Enfield replied evenly. "He''s under strict surveillance. But chances are he won''t welcome visitors, especially those leading him to his demise."


    "He''s got nothing left to lose," Cecil shrugged. "He''s doomed either way."


    "Oh! And maybe he can shed light on that thing Adam''s been fretting about," Monica added.


    "Do you really want to meet a convicted killer?" Adam asked, but Monica¡¯s expression remained unchanged. "Then I suppose I''ll join you. Cecil?"


    "I have better things to do," Cecil.


    "Ah, what a loss!" Monica teased. "Anyway, let''s get going!" She marched out the door. Adam sighed and followed.


    As they entered the station the front room was empty. Harriet was missing from her desk and Paul from the iron door, instead replaced with a wooden wedge holding the door open.


    ¡°Looks like we beat Harriet.¡±


    ¡°It seems so. I suppose we just go right through.¡±


    Adam led Monica past the iron door and through the hall. The lamps hung on the walls and flickered. As they approached the last door they saw Paul bodyguarding the door with his hands clasped behind his back. He lifted his head at their footsteps.


    ¡°Detective Clarke and Moore? What business do you have here?¡± He quired gruffly.


    ¡°She wants to speak with Andrews.¡± Responded, jamming a thumb in Monica¡¯s direction.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°So I can ask a question on your behalf. Be polite!¡± She spat.


    ¡°Talk with him?¡± Paul turned towards the door, then back towards them as he pondered. ¡°I suppose if you want to. Can¡¯t fathom what you want to speak with him about. But I shall say he¡¯s got the morbs so you might not get much out of him.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the warning, Officer!¡± Monica gleamed. ¡°Now if you may open the door?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± He moved from the door, grabbing keys out of his pockets and rattled it in the lock. ¡°If things go south I¡¯ll be here.¡±


    The duo nodded as they entered the room. The door slammed shut behind them.


    They looked upon the dark room. Andrews sat exactly where he did post-trial. This time adorned in stripped prisoner garb.


    ¡°So, this is the killer huh?¡± Monica walked side to side before taking a seat in front of Andrews. He looked up slightly.


    Monica looked around the cramped room before her gaze fell back on the man in front of her.


    ¡°Indulge me if you may,¡± She began as she propped her face with her fists. ¡°We both know this won¡¯t end well for you, so let¡¯s help each other as much as we can.¡± He lifted his head more.


    ¡°Great!¡± She waved towards Adam. ¡°Yesterday, you told Detective Clarke that someone made you commit the crimes. Care to explain.¡±


    The room was filled with silence, but Monica¡¯s sharp gaze was relentless until Andrews finally spoke.


    ¡°I¡­Think I know who it is now. He spoke to me.¡± He muttered.


    ¡°What?¡± Adam¡¯s mouth was agape. ¡°Who?¡±


    But Andrews just shook his head sadly. ¡°I cannot say. You¡­ wouldn¡¯t believe anyhow.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we will!¡± Adam approached him. ¡°If you tell us, maybe we could lighten your sentence. Who told you and why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why,¡± He whispered. ¡°It makes no sense¡­¡±


    ¡°Who is it?¡± Monica demanded as she slammed a fist on the table. ¡°You must tell us!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, you won¡¯t believe me. It¡¯s no use. If I did, he¡¯d just kill us all.¡±


    ¡°Please, sir you-¡±


    ¡°Please leave!¡± He begged. ¡°These are my last days. I can¡¯t tell you anymore, so just leave me in peace.¡±


    Monica stood up, placing her knuckles on the edge of the desk.


    ¡°Please I just have two more questions; what happened to the murder weapons?¡±


    ¡°He took them.¡± He answered begrudgingly.


    ¡°How did you two meet?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He found me and started sending me blackmail letters to commit crimes. Then, when I committed those, he used the crimes to blackmail me as well.¡±


    Adam thought to himself. ¡°The original blackmail materials were the photos I assume?¡±


    ¡°...Yes.¡±


    ¡°So, what happened to these letters?¡± Monica asked in an even, but low tone.


    ¡°I was ordered to burn them.¡±


    ¡°So, what abo-¡±


    ¡°That was more than two questions.¡± He spat. ¡°Please just leave me alone, I don¡¯t anything else.¡±


    Adam and Monica fell silent. It was clear no more information was viable.


    ¡°Alright, thank you for your time, sir.¡± She gave him a final glance, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came out. She nodded towards Adam and the two left the room.


    ¡°You done?¡± Paul asked relocking the door.


    ¡°Yes, thank you. We got some info.¡±


    ¡°Really? I¡¯m surprised.¡± He turned towards the two. ¡°But you guys came out just in time. Harriet threw a proper fit when I told her I let you two talk to the killer.¡±


    He turned his attention down the hall, past the iron door. ¡°She might want a word.¡±


    ¡°Ah, sorry,¡± Adam chuckled nervously as he brought a hand to the back of his neck. ¡°Regardless, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, whatever. Run along now.¡±


    They approached Harriet¡¯s desk who was typing furiously on her typewriter. When she saw them she swiftly pushed it aside, nearly throwing it to the ground.


    ¡°You!¡± She stood up wagged a finger in their faces. ¡°Who do you think you are talking to the killer. It¡¯s against protocol ya¡¯ know!¡±


    ¡°But Enfield said we could!¡± Monica whined. ¡°Can¡¯t you let it go just this once?¡±


    Harriet sighed as she dropped her finger and head.


    ¡°I guess¡­ It doesn¡¯t matter too much. But what was so important that you needed to speak with him?¡±


    ¡°Do you recall what I mentioned to you yesterday about him saying somebody ordered him to commit the crimes?¡±


    Her eyes lit up. ¡°Why did he tell you a name?¡±


    ¡°Err, no not exactly.¡± Adam chuckled.


    ¡°But he said ¡®he¡¯ so we know it¡¯s a man!¡± Monica added.


    Harriet dropped her head again. ¡°Well, drat! That only narrows it down to a few thousand. But I suppose I can look into it. But that¡¯s a pretty thin lead.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Adam sighed. ¡°But according to Andrews, he has the murder weapons and also a window of time to speak with him before the trial took place.¡±


    ¡°And apparently eyes in lot¡¯s of places. How¡¯d he find out about the photos?¡±


    ¡°Well, I can tell Scotland Yard but don¡¯t get your hopes up. But no more talking to the killer!¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am!¡±


    The sun was starting to set and the cold front was kicking in. The pavement, forever damp, squeaked underneath their shoes.


    ¡°So, any revelations yet?¡± Adam asked.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Monica groaned as she brushed through her hair. ¡°But you spoke with the suspect last night, right? Such a small window of time that he could have spoken with Andrews. Especially with Harriet and Officer Paul there. I wonder how he got in unnoticed.¡±


    Adam pondered through himself for a few seconds. ¡°Well, the best hiding spot is in plain sight. Perhaps he wasn¡¯t caught because he wouldn¡¯t be a suspect.¡±


    ¡°You say that like you have an idea Care to share? But, Harriet didn¡¯t mention anyone coming through last night.¡± She gasped as she came upon a revelation. ¡°Unless you think it¡¯s her!¡±


    ¡°Blazes no!¡± Adam exclaimed as he was offended. ¡°Andrews mentioned it was a man. Plus, I couldn¡¯t imagine her hurting a fly, especially with Paul there, so it couldn¡¯t be either of them, or one would have been caught.¡±


    ¡°Aw, I thought I had something!¡± She pouted. ¡°But that also disproves your line of thought, Harriet would have certainly mentioned if someone came on through, and they would have to have got the keys from Paul. So I wonder what happened. Unless it¡¯s a lie of course.¡±


    ¡°It could be. But what does he have to lie about? He¡¯ll be dead in three weeks.¡±


    ¡°Grr, this is confusing! Seems we are getting nowhere, let¡¯s just hope Harriet finds something.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Adam replied. ¡°I¡¯m sure good news will come up eventually.¡± But for some reason, he had a sinking feeling in his gut.


    The two walked in a comfortable silence for a block in a half until Adam broke out of his thoughts.


    ¡°Hey, are we going anyway?¡±


    ¡°To dinner of course!¡± She spun around towards Adam and began walking backward. ¡°To celebrate our victory! Don¡¯t worry it¡¯s all me. And don¡¯t think about leaving now, we are almost there anyhow.¡±


    Adam was too tired to fight. ¡°I suppose,¡± He sighed ¡°But Cecil isn¡¯t going to be happy.¡± He mused.


    ¡°Cecil? Is that dubious man all you think about? Besides you asked him and he said no.¡±


    The two approached a building lit up with several lamps. Chattering could be heard from inside and the people on the balcony. Adam looked up as he tried to read the sign.


    ¡°Parlor at dinner?¡±


    ¡°Parler et d?ner.¡± Monica corrected. ¡°It¡¯s French. I¡¯ve been wanting to go here for ages!¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°A woman can¡¯t dine alone, it¡¯s improper!¡± She huffed. ¡°But now I have you, so hurry up. You pay¡±


    Before Adam could protest Monica grabbed him by the arm and dragged him up the stairs into the restaurant.

 The Second Act

    Adam and Monica sat at their table, elegantly draped in a crisp white tablecloth, a half-melted candle casting a warm, flickering glow between them. Adam had heard of this restaurant as it was renowned for its sophistication. However, he wasn¡¯t a big eater, so he never visited. Especially not willing to pay such a steep price for it. The building buzzed with the quiet hum of conversation. Wealthy couples lounged at nearby tables, their refined laughter drowned out by the band playing in the middle. Two women played clarinets while a suited man with slick-back hair crooned a French chanson in a deep, resonant baritone that Adam didn¡¯t. He brought his attention to the woman in front of him stuffing her face. Adam watched in awe as Monica wolfed down her third bowl of bouillabaisse.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand it.¡± She said between spoonfuls. ¡°How could someone be continuously blackmailed into committing fourteen murders but no evidence is left behind?¡±


    ¡°Well, Andrews said he burned the letters.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± She replied as she wiped her face with her sleeve. ¡°But every criminal leaves a trace of something behind. It¡¯s just up to us to find it. But where?¡± She sighed.


    ¡°But the case is already closed.¡± Adam leaned back in his chair, fingering the edge of the tablecloth. ¡°To do further investigating we¡¯d have to reopen the case. Enfield would never authorize that. Furthermore, Andrews is due to be executed in three weeks. It¡¯d be no point.¡±


    ¡°I guess so,¡± She sighed placing down her spoon. ¡°The problem is, if he did it to one person he could do it to another. And what if-¡± She gasped as she suddenly came to a revelation. She leaned in close to Adam. ¡°You know how before you theorized there were multiple killers. What if there are?¡± She told him under her breath. ¡°It¡¯s inconceivable a single person could commit so many crimes in such a short period. The reason they were all so similar could have been because they were blackmailed by the same person!¡±


    ¡°Nice theory,¡± He praised as he leaned back even more. ¡°But it¡¯s just that; a theory. One we can¡¯t prove without more investigating, which we can¡¯t do either.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like it has to be official.¡± She chuckled as she sank back into her chair, picking up her spoon. ¡°It could be a private investigation.¡±


    ¡°A private investigation means we don¡¯t have any resources. Plus, Enfield wouldn¡¯t approve.¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t need to know,¡± She scoffed with umbrage. ¡°And what¡¯s all this countering for! You are the one who suggested there might be more to this.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, as we do it by the books. But it¡¯s too late now.¡±


    ¡°Too late?¡± She fisted her hands. ¡°What if more people are murdered? Rules are needed until they get in the way of true justice. Plus, we can do it alone!¡± She exclaimed. ¡°You and me. We can even ask that annoying Hans you like. We found Andrews, we can find the others.¡±


    ¡°If there are any,¡± Adam countered. ¡°We still have no evidence of this.¡±


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s get investigating. Tomorrow¡¯s the party and lots of officers are going to be there. We can ask them if they found something or someone suspicious at the scene.¡±


    ¡°He sighed,¡± You can. But this seems too far-fetched for my liking. If you find anything let me know but otherwise, leave me out of it.¡±


    ¡°Grr, fine! I better get a good night¡¯s sleep then so let¡¯s hurry up and get out of here. And if you aren¡¯t going to eat your steak I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    The ballroom was exquisite. The snowy white marble floor reflected Adam¡¯s face back at him. The walls were lined with intricate stained glass. The gas lamps perched underneath them lit them up in luminous reds and purples. The floor was patterned with circular tables with silk tablecloths. Dressed up law enforcement sat at the tables, sipping on wine and laughing with each other. On the far end of the room, glass doors led to a balcony in which, through trees, you could see the twinkling lights of London. The setting reminded him of when his father would drag him along to his business parties. Forced pleasantries, the facade of interest in his father¡¯s affairs. This was a big step up.


    Adam¡¯s reminiscing was cut short when he was tapped on the shoulder.


    ¡°Wine?¡± Adam turned around. Monica was adorned in a cherry red dress, her fair hair tied up in a chignon as she held out a glass


    ¡°I don¡¯t drink,¡± He answered, pushing away her hand. ¡°And don¡¯t you have some questioning to do?¡± He recalled.


    ¡°There¡¯s some tact involved you know. Can¡¯t have them suspecting so it needs to come up in casual conversation.¡± She explained as she sipped her wine.


    ¡°A ruthless blackmailer with relations to a death row inmate coming up in casual conversation?¡± He scoffed.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand,¡± She huffed. ¡°You aren¡¯t exactly an exceptional conversationalist.¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± He sighed. ¡°But you shouldn¡¯t waste your time here.¡± He discreetly pointed to an officer on the other side of the room, putting back glasses of wine and swaying slightly. ¡°Go talk to one of the heavy drinkers. Drinking means looser lips.¡±


    She laughed as she followed his gaze to the officer.


    ¡°Look at you!! Are you sure you don¡¯t want to help me out in my little endeavor? You¡¯d be a great assist.¡± She pleaded.


    ¡°Very sure. But feel free to ask Cecil, he loves breaking rules.¡±


    ¡°Ask him?¡± She dragged out the ¡®m¡¯ to emphasize to him how greatly revolted she was to this idea.


    ¡°What? You said you were going to before.¡±


    ¡°To get you to join me! Otherwise, I¡¯d do it alone.¡±


    ¡°Then you shall. And you better get started soon, lots of people to get through.¡±


    She scoffed angrily but complied.


    ¡°Fine! But if I get any information I''ll let you know,¡± Adam watched her hurry off towards the drunk officer. Adam only had a few minutes of silence until a drunk Harriet stumbled towards him.


    ¡°Adam, hey!¡± She hiccuped out as she grabbed his shoulder to balance herself. ¡°What-what are you doing here?¡± She giggled as she swayed from side to side.


    ¡°I was invited here for solving the case,¡± He replied curtly, trying to maintain his balance.


    ¡°Case? Oh, that case! So, what are you doing here?¡±


    He sighed. He always hated dealing with the drunks. Fortunately for him, this time it brought up a prime opportunity.


    ¡°Yes, that case.¡± He said. ¡°Regarding that, did anyone meet with the murderer while he was in his cell?¡±


    ¡°Murderer?¡± Her eyebrows burrowed deeply in thought as if recalling the events from the previous day was challenging for her. ¡°Oh yes! Some idiot girl and a boy. H-how dare they! Nobody¡¯s ¡®suppose to speak with the victim.¡±


    ¡°Besides that!¡± He snapped. ¡°Anybody before that?¡±


    Her eyebrows furrowed as she pondered again. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Or maybe someone did. But the accident¡¯s takin¡¯ up all my memory.¡± She chortled as she slapped Adam¡¯s back with her free hand.


    ¡°Accident? What accident?¡± He demanded facing her with a stern expression.


    ¡°Ah! Don¡¯t look so serious! Ya¡¯ look much prettier when your, your face ¡®s nice and smooth,¡± She ran her finger across his chin.


    ¡°Stop that!¡± He snapped, slapping her away. ¡°But accident you say? What happened?¡±


    ¡°This foozler coachman hit a stationed carriage. Apparently he was blootered. It was horrible! Louder than hell an¡¯ clogged the whole road.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± He inquired. ¡°Were you there?¡±


    ¡°¡®Heard it from m¡¯ desk. A loud bang and a barrage of horse whines so me and Paul stepped outside ta¡¯ see two carriages collided.¡±


    ¡°So you were away from your station? Why the blazes didn¡¯t you say so sooner?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t yell at me!¡± She cried, swaying even more as she clutched his shoulder with more strength. ¡°Nobody was hurt, except the poor horsie¡¯s, but we had to stand by ¡®til the beat officer arrived.¡±


    ¡°And how long was that?¡±


    ¡°I dunno¡¯¡± She hiccuped. ¡°Fifteen to twenty minutes?¡±


    ¡°So fifteen to twenty minutes are unaccounted for.¡± He thought to himself. ¡°Harriet, is there any chance someone could of entered the cell?¡±


    ¡°Nah¡¯ not without the keys. Paul has them on his person at all times.¡±


    Adam thought to himself. This was a huge gap and the only possibility where the blackmailer could have slipped in unnoticed.


    ¡°Are there any spare keys?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Only at Scotland Yard. Enfield keeps a spare for each cell in lockers inside a backroom in case the original pair gets lost.¡±


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°So they must have an affiliation with the Yard.¡± He mused. But all the other officers were busy wrapping up the case. So who else could have grabbed the keys without and slipped  into the station? If the entire yard was busy and Harriet and Paul were busy dealing with an accident, that only leaves one individual he can think of who¡¯s been avoiding work like the plague. Adam felt a sinking feeling in his gut.


    ¡°Uh, who are we talking about?¡± She laughed, leaning her head over his shoulder. ¡°Also, what are you doing here?¡±


    It was clear he wasn¡¯t going to get any more relevant information from her. He should report this to Monica as soon as possible.


    ¡°Harriet, why don¡¯t I pay for you a cab home?¡± He suggested as she dragged her along towards the exit.


    Adam huffed as he pushed her into the carriage. She was heavier than she looked.


    ¡°Thanks, sir,¡± He gave the coachman a few silver coins. ¡°Harriet, you need to tell the man your address or you will be stuck stranded on the street.


    ¡°Fine!¡± She huffed. ¡°But you owe me, one day you have to bring me to di-¡±


    Adam shut the carriage door in her face. Finally silence.


    He returned to the party, glancing around the ballfloor for Monica. He scanned across all the similarly-dressed women until his eyes landed on Monica. She nodded and laughed as Ironheel told her an animated story, occasionally asking questions. Though desperate to tell her his new revelation, he didn¡¯t think she¡¯d appreciate him interrupting her information dig. Plus, he needed a break. He turned his attention away from her as he squeezed his way through the crowd until he finally arrived at the glass doors.


    As Adam slid open the glass doors leading to the balcony, a rush of cold night air greeted him, a refreshing contrast to the stifling warmth of the party inside. The narrow balcony hosted five wrought iron tables and chairs, positioned under the soft glow of twinkling lights. The fifth table, nestled in the balcony''s corner, drew Adam''s attention immediately. There, Cecil sat, cross-legged, his gaze fixed on the city lights.


    "What are you doing out here?" Adam inquired, settling into the chair opposite Cecil. Slowly, Cecil turned to face him. He was dressed impeccably in a white long-sleeved dress suit layered with a black vest that hugged his frame, accessorized with a black and white striped tie. His black dress pants fit snugly over his thighs, and he swept back his neatly groomed black hair, two unruly strands falling on each side of his face. Without his glasses, Adam could more clearly see Cecil¡¯s sharp cerulean eyes staring back at him. He wore snow-white gloves. One hand was curled up in front of him while the other was wrapped around his wine glass, his fingertip dipping in the liquid. "Wow," Was all Adam could muster. "You look really good."


    Cecil yawned but said nothing.


    ¡°Uh, are you ok?¡± Adam asked as he tapped his finger on the table.


    ¡°Are you?¡± Cecil counted. ¡°You look like you want to say something?¡±


    ¡°What? Do I?¡± Adam leaned back in his chair as he ran a hand through his hair. How was he supposed to tell Cecil his suspicions? ¡°I was just getting fresh air when I saw you out here.¡± He explained. ¡°But what are you doing out in the cold?¡±


    Cecil observed Adam for a few seconds until finally accepting his account.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like parties.¡± He answered simply.


    Adam tipped his head in skepticism. ¡°What is the matter?¡± He asked gently. ¡°You seem upset.¡±


    ¡°Nothing at all,¡± He replied. ¡°What were you speaking to Miss Williams about?¡±


    Adam didn¡¯t like where this was going.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good question!¡± He laughed, placing his hand on the back of his neck. ¡°She was pretty drunk so most of it was unintelligible.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡±


    The two endured a tense silence while Adam searched for a way to lighten the mood.


    "You know, now that this case is finally wrapped up, maybe I could take you up on that dinner offer," Adam suggested. "Yesterday, Monica dragged me to this French restaurant. I wasn¡¯t very hungry, so I didn¡¯t eat much, but it was surprisingly good. I wouldn¡¯t mind going again."


    "You went out with that mutinous girl?" Cecil sneered.


    "Not like that!" Adam protested. "I didn¡¯t really have a choice. She made me pay for everything!"


    "Well then, perhaps I can show you some more refined manners," Cecil grinned as he sipped his wine.


    "You''d better," Adam huffed. "You''re both so bothersome."


    "Are bothersome people your type then?"


    "Don¡¯t flatter yourself," Adam chuckled. "Your lamentable personality isn¡¯t exactly my type. Although, if you dressed like this every day, maybe I would have taken you up on your offer sooner."


    Cecil laughed softly to himself. "My, aren¡¯t you bold tonight? What are you trying to distract me from?"


    "What''s the problem? Isn''t this what you want?"


    "Maybe. But can you give me what I really want?"


    Adam grabbed Cecil¡¯s tie and pulled him close, their faces meeting intimately in the shadows. He trailed his lips gently along Cecil¡¯s neck, eliciting a slight shudder. Their lips met in harmony, Adam¡¯s tongue teasing Cecil¡¯s mouth. They broke apart after several moments, foreheads still touching.


    "Perhaps we should continue this at my place," Cecil suggested.


    "Not tonight," Adam replied. "But I should leave before anyone suspects anything."


    Adam straightened his lapels as he returned to the boisterous atmosphere of the party. That was close. Cecil was certainly on to him. But why was he suspicious when he was talking to Harriet? It was a painful thought, but the only thing he could possibly have to hide regarding Harriet was if he truly did sneak into the station. But why? What reason could he possibly have to urge someone to commit so many heinous crimes? He came from Prussia and then showed up at the Yard as a prestigious detective. What was the connection? Nevertheless, dawdling to himself was getting nowhere. He had to tell Monica his findings soon away.


    He looked back over to Ironheel. Monica was nowhere to be seen, instead, he was chatting with a bobby that Adam scarcely recognized from Scotland Yard. He scanned around the room for Monica. Her flashy dress caught his eye at the food bar. She stood in front of a long white table shoveling pieces of roast beef onto a plate as a long line of displeased party guests waited behind her, bare plates in hand. He approached her.


    ¡°Adam, hi!¡± She greeted enthusiastically. ¡°Are you hungry? They just brought out fresh beef!¡±


    ¡°No, but the people behind you are, so let¡¯s go.¡± He pulled her away from the table by her free arm, and out the front entrance.


    ¡°Uh, excuse me!¡± She protested as she stumbled on the front lawn, dropping a few pieces of beef. ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡±


    ¡°Er, sorry about that.¡± He apologized sheepishly dropping her arm. ¡°Just wanted to know if you got any relevant information.¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯d tell you didn¡¯t I?¡± She snatched her arm back. ¡°Plus I was taking a snack break.¡±


    ¡°So did you?¡±


    ¡°Kinda,¡± She began as she finished chewing her food. ¡°A few of the officers tracked down receipts for all five lockers. They were pretty expensive lockets. Cost ninety pounds each and bought at the same time.¡± She set her plate in the Yard as she turned towards Adam. ¡°But Andrews is extremely poor and couldn¡¯t afford to pay for one. Let alone five all upfront. Plus the buyer''s name was Nelson Milford.¡±


    ¡°What,¡± Adam cried. ¡°So Andrews didn¡¯t buy them.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± She shrugged. ¡°They searched the records and there wasn¡¯t a single person with that name. ¡®Nelson Milford¡¯ doesn¡¯t exist. So there are two possibilities here.¡± She put up her index finger to count one. ¡°A third party, possibly our blackmailer bought them for Andrews.¡± She put up another finger. ¡°Two, someone lent him the money and he bought them under a pseudonym. But we know for sure is that Andrews couldn¡¯t have bought them alone. He could not have possibly afforded him. However, he did have them in his possession at some point. As the victims were given the lockets by Andrews himself and they had his face. Our blackmailing theory is gathering traction.¡±


    ¡°So that means- but wait.¡± Adam suddenly stopped in his tracks. ¡°You said five lockets. There were only four.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± She placed her hand on her chin in thought. ¡°There were receipts for five lockets, bought by the same person, at the same time, at the same store, but we only have one. Which means one is missing.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not good.¡±


    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t. Unfortunately, the officers have covered all bases on this as well. They searched high and low and couldn¡¯t find the missing locket. This is a big problem logically, however, the lack of evidence is not evidence itself, which is why they didn¡¯t tell us this sooner. Even though it raises the possibility someone else is involved.¡±


    ¡°About that,¡± Adam stammered as he shuffled his feet. ¡°I have a theory on who it could be.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± She leaned forward, faces almost touching until Adam backed up. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me hanging!¡±


    ¡°Alright, but it¡¯s very far-fetched.¡±


    ¡°All of this is, my dear!¡± She laughed. ¡°So hurry and spit it out.¡±


    ¡°Very well. As soon as you left Harriet walked up- well, stumbled up to me. To cut to the chase, there was a carriage accident in front of the station.¡±


    ¡°Oh no!¡± She gasped slapping her hands over her mouth, ¡°Was anyone hurt?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not why I¡¯m bringing it up. The beat officer was nowhere to be found so Harriet and Paul stepped out of the station to keep watch until he arrived. Which was around fifteen to twenty minutes later.¡±


    ¡°Oh! So that means the blackmailer could have snuck in during then!¡±


    ¡°Quite. However, the main set of keys was in Paul¡¯s pocket. The only other set is kept at Scotland Yard.¡±


    ¡°So- oh dear.¡±


    ¡°It gets worse. All the officers were busy at the time and had no reason to go to the station, they were filing evidence for the case. And obviously no passerby could have waltzed into the station and stolen the keys. The only people who weren¡¯t busy at the Yard were me, you, and Cecil. But only one has a knack for getting out of work.¡±


    ¡°Oh no. No no no no.¡± Monica repeated to herself.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I talked to him as well. He was suspicious of me talking to Harriet. But the only thing deserving of any suspicion was the carriage crash and a few minutes of uncalled-for time. He must have been on to me. But, Harriet only told me about about it. So other than her, Paul, and I nobody in the Yard could have possibly known. Other than someone who snuck into the station that is.¡±


    Silence befell between them as Monica tried to process what she heard. She stared down at the dark grass.


    ¡°But, but why?¡± She whispered. ¡°Why would he do that? What¡¯s it to him? He even helped me with the investigation. He told me about the photographs!¡±


    ¡°To crosscheck them right?¡± Adam replied. ¡°If they are of the victims it would cast suspicion from himself wouldn¡¯t it. Maybe I can squeeze a favor out of Ironheel and see if he can see if any of the photos are of the victims¡±


    ¡°This is madness,¡± She mused. ¡°Still, why? It makes no sense. But¡­ He is the only one who could have. And what business did he have with Andrews after the fact. I just don-¡±


    ¡°Detectives!¡± A young bobby ran towards them, saluting as she approached. ¡°The chief needs you right this minute! To the ballroom! Hurry!¡± He waved violently towards the entrance to the party. Adam and Monica exchanged confused looks as they followed him inside.


    It was madness. Everyone was huddled up in the middle of the room, tables pushed aside. They all muttered in eachother¡¯s ears.


    ¡°Moore, Clarke, over here!¡± They looked in the direction of Ironheel¡¯s voice. He waved a thick arm in the air to attract their attention. They hurried over.


    Enfield, Ironheel, Paul, Cecil, and the young officer from earlier stood in the far right corner in a circle, all looking distressed.


    ¡°Good evening ma¡¯am.¡± Monica greeted as she approached the chief. ¡°What¡¯s the problem.¡±


    ¡°And you are sure his cell is locked?¡± Enfield roared at Paul.


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am. Officer Nick is on guard duty for tonight. I still have the key, the other is still at the Yard. There¡¯s no way the cell could have been unlocked.¡±


    ¡°Well this is a dilemma!¡± Adam glanced over at Cecil who laughed quietly to himself. A gloved hand covering his mouth.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Monica repeated, alarmed. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I regret to have to tell you,¡± Ironheel sighed as he averted his gaze from them. ¡°Another woman has been murdered in the shopping district.¡±

 Back to The Basics

    Ten years later


    My eyes blinked open. The room was pitch dark, other than the delicate moonlight seeping through the window and lighting up the carpet. I rubbed my eyes and shook the tangles out of my hair as I looked up at the clock, quietly ticking the seconds away. 2:30. Right on time!


    I slipped my hair in a ponytail and slowly opened the door. The prolonged creek made me cringe, yet I didn¡¯t hear Adam or Monica steer. I tacitly made my way toward Adam''s desk, avoiding the squeaky board and tiles.


    I sat on the leather chair and let out a breath I didn¡¯t know I was holding. I got to my destination unnoticed! Now for the hard part.


    I looked down at the desk. Three drawers were on each side. I put my hand on the small knob of the drawer on the top left and jingled it. Locked. Not a surprise. I shook the rest, all six of them were locked. I sighed, but I was expecting this. I stood up and scanned the room. Luckily the moon was on my side, as the large window behind me cast a large spotlight in the middle of the room. If I was Adam where would I hide the keys of something I want nobody to open?


    I scanned the bookshelf behind me. It was lined with books and useless trinkets and a photograph of him and Monica wearing unnaturally stiff expressions. I picked up a book with a worn orange spine and looked behind it. If it was anything like the detective stories I¡¯ve read in the papers one of these books is either a level or has a small compartment under it. No such luck. I picked up the next. Nothing.


    I groaned with the defeat. If it was on this shelf I had no chance of finding it before dawn broke. I scanned the room again. There was a  small coffee table in the middle of the room besides this, there were no other hiding spaces, other of course, than his bed chambers.


    I shifted through papers on the table, all just files about recently solved cases, nothing that¡¯d help me now-wait. A file caught my eye. I removed it from the pile and placed it back on the table. I leaned back on my heels as I read:


    Alice Lotusburg: Deceased


    Age: 19


    Birthday: April 4


    Date of death: October 2 1871


    Cause of death: Poison


    Alice Lotusburg, isn¡¯t that? No, we were solving Agatha Lotusburg¡¯s death. But could these two be related? I looked at the small picture at the bottom of the file. The picture was grainy, regardless I recognized the surroundings.


    Her body was curled up at the bottom of winding stairs. The flash of the camera reflected off the marble floor. Her baby blue dress was ripped and visual bruises covered her face and arms. Did she fall down the stairs? But I thought she was poisoned. I examined her appearance the best I could. Her hair, a similar length and color to the portrait in Agatha¡¯s Lotusburg. Same house, similar appearance, and same last name, they had to be sisters. But the crimes happened ten years apart! Yet, the two sisters were poisoned. This couldn¡¯t be a coincidence, right? It seems Adam didn¡¯t think so either. Why else would he have a file from a decade ago in a pile of recent ones?


    I read over the file before placing it back in the file. He wouldn¡¯t mind if I asked him about it, right? I stood up and made my way to the cupboard. Some new interesting information, but not what I was here to find. One last place to look.


    I slowly opened the door to Adam¡¯s bed chambers. I couldn¡¯t believe I was doing this. I looked around the room taking in the surroundings, this is the first time I¡¯d ever been inside. Long black curtains covered the windows making it hard to see, but I was able to make out a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser on the far left by the door. I scrutinized the bed until I was able to make out Adam¡¯s figure. Asleep. Thank god. Let¡¯s just hope the keys are in the dresser and not the nightstand.


    Silently, I crept across the room towards the dresser, my movements deliberate and cautious. My fingers traced the smooth surface of the dresser''s top, searching for any sign of the key. Nothing. With a faint sigh, I pulled open the top drawer, relieved to find it unlocked. To my disappointment, it was filled with neatly folded clothes, no key in sight. The second drawer yielded the same result.


    Undeterred, I moved to the third drawer and cautiously inserted my hand. Initially feeling only emptiness, my fingers suddenly brushed against something cold and metallic. Curiosity overcoming caution, I explored further, my hand tracing along a long, cylindrical shape until it ended in a small hole¡ªa gun. Startled, I withdrew my hand swiftly. Beneath where the gun had lain, I discovered a small square of leather topped with a metal badge, this must be his detective badge which means this drawer is reserved for his work essentials; could the desk keys also be here?


    My search intensified, and at last, my fingertips encountered a thin circle, unmistakably a keyring. Carefully, I sifted through the keys until I found the one I sought. Bingo!


    I closed the door and hurried back over to the door until I was overcome by a pang of guilt. Was I really sneaking into my mentor¡¯s bedroom to steal his keys? Was I crazy? Sure, he was a bit suspicious but being a weird crime? But at the same time, neither is being curious, right? Maybe he is just a weird guy but she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling more was going on here. I mean, he kissed Cecil! Being unfaithful to your wife is hardly innocent so is it so much of a stretch to assume he¡¯s doing other things as well? Either way, I already had the keys, no reason to put them back after that whole endeavor. I mentally apologized to him as I hurried back to the desk. I¡¯d have to buy him flowers sometime.


    I put my keys in the first draw. Luckily they were the right keys and the dresser opened with a ¡®click!¡¯ I looked inside. A neat stack of papers sat snuggly in the drawer. Nothing of interest yet. I picked up the stack and flipped through. More papers about cases. But why did he go through all the effort to lock them up? There has to be something.


    I was just about to cut my losses when I caught Alice Lotusburg¡¯s name again. I quietly removed the yellowed dog-eared file and read it over. It was the same one on the table! Why have two? I looked closer.


    Alice Lotusburg: Deceased


    Age: 19


    Birthday: April 4


    Date of death: October 3 1871


    Cause of death: Blunt Force


    Wait what? I held the paper closer to my face. This is incorrect, right? I raced towards the coffee table and snatched the other file. I swiftly but quietly tip-toed back to Adam¡¯s desk and read the first file over once again:


    Alice Lotusburg: Deceased


    Age: 19


    Birthday: April 4


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Date of death: October 2 1871


    Cause of death: Poison


    I was right! The date of death and cause of death are different! I scrutinized the photos. They were the same on every file, and the names were the same. It¡¯s both Alice Lotusburg so how could this be possible? And why is one locked up? I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. It was screaming at me not to ask Adam about it. I revoked my previous thought of consulting him about the file.


    The contents of the first drawer were intriguing, to say the least, but time is limited. Time to go to the next.


    I unlocked the drawer beneath the first. The lock was rusted and difficult to open as I had to jiggle it several times. Seems as if this one hasn¡¯t been open in a while.


    I inspected the inside. Several objects I didn¡¯t recognize: A broken watch, a dusty brooch, a golden locket, and a strange doll. Adam certainly had strange interests. But nothing of concern. I closed the drawer and went on to the next, the drawer on the top left.


    This one opened quickly and the drawer slid out with ease. Inside were only a few slips of paper. I picked up the first one, a half sheet in pristine condition. I held it up to the moonlight. A short sentence was written neatly in black ink:


    If you¡¯ve changed your mind about one thing or the other; The usual place.-C


    Ok, ominous. Does this man have any normal confidants? I reread the note, and there was nothing I could decipher. I put it away and pulled out the next. It was a full paper folded neatly. As I unfolded it I was instantly greeted with the sight of words scrawled all over the page. Like its predecessor, I held it up to the light. From top to bottom, it was covered in small delicate lettering. Very similar to the one on the last page, other than a bit of water damage running the ink in the middle of the page. Could it be from the same person?


    I tried it read it, but despite the neat lettering, the small words made the reading strenuous. At the very top of the page, I was able to make the first few sentences:


    As always, do this discreetly and scrupulously. Any mistake will doom us both. Deliver the new autopsy report. It¡¯ll give us both an alibi and botch the investigation. Next


    I wasn¡¯t able to make anything out past that. What the devil does this mean? Why would Adam want to botch an investigation? Or maybe it¡¯s just evidence. But then why is it locked up in his desk?


    As I approached the last drawer, my mind was racing with thoughts, but I tried to push them aside. Inserting the key, I twisted it with anticipation, but it didn''t budge. Frustrated, I shook it vigorously, wondering if it was broken or if I had the wrong key. As I continued to shake it, a low creak caught my attention, emanating from Adam''s room. I immediately froze, a sense of unease creeping over me. Hastily, I relocked all the drawers, ready to escape at a moment''s notice. Fortunately, I heard nothing further, but it was a clear sign for me to abandon my post.


    I rushed back to my room until coming to a rapid stop. The keys! I left them on the desk.


    With a deep sigh, I crept back to the desk and snatched up the keys. But what to do with them? I got them out of Adam¡¯s room, but he seemed to be stirring. Could I risk it? I gripped my forehead as I worked through my dilemma until an idea came to me. Maybe I didn¡¯t steal them. Perhaps I found them on the ground when I grabbed a cup of water in the middle of the night. And like the diligent prot¨¦g¨¦e I am, I return it to him in the morning. Flawless. With a renowned plan in mind, I finally retired to my room, exhausted. Despite my fatigue, my running thoughts kept me up.


    I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I made my way to the kitchen. Sunlight seeped through the windows warming the floor beneath my feet. I was greeted with the tantalizing aroma of toast and backing. The slight sizzling of the pan became louder and louder as I got closer.


    Monica stood over by the marble countertop, taking pieces of toast out of the toaster and placing them on one of three plates. Aureate locks were weaved into a plait. She wore a delicate baby blue gown that reached her ankles. She hummed quietly to herself. Adam sat at the table, hands in his lap as he stared languidly at the ceiling. Brown hair scrupulously combed back and his signature well-tailored suit. He bounced his leg rhythmically, as he was nervous about something. He looked towards me at my footsteps.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I greeted the two. Neither answered. I sucked in a breath as I approached Adam, jingling his keys. ¡°I found your keys last night while I was getting a drink of water. You oughta be more careful.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thanks.¡±


    Well, that was easy.


    I dropped them in his hand. I gave him a sweet smile to try and lighten the mood but he just blinked at me. It seems tensions were still high from the previous night. As I sat in the chair across from him I tried to create conversation.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the agenda for today?¡±


    ¡°Not sure yet,¡± He replied curtly. ¡°But you should examine the body sooner or later. You are a forensic scientist after all.¡±


    Ah, that¡¯s right. I¡¯m supposed to be a forensic scientist, not a detective. However, it proved difficult to do my job with no prior knowledge and being surrounded by only detectives.


    ¡°About that,¡± I brought a nervous hand to the back of my neck. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking, I don¡¯t know much about this whole forensics thing. But you, Chief Ironheel, Detective Hans, Detective Price, and previously Monica are all detectives. Wouldn¡¯t it make more sense for me to become a detective instead?¡±


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± He waved away my concern. ¡°That is exactly why you should be a forensics scientist. There are many detectives already investigating the crimes. We don¡¯t need another.¡±


    ¡°But I don-¡±


    ¡°I am your boss am I not? This was part of the deal, remember? I take you in, you help the Yard by working to be a forensic scientist. We have not many of those.¡¯


    ¡°Err, I guess.¡±


    He clearly did not like that suggestion. Monica placed a plate of toast and bacon in front of me.


    ¡°You better eat up sweetest! You¡¯re a growing girl. Unfortunately, we are all out of eggs.¡± She sighed as she fixed Adam a plate. ¡°Perhaps you can go get us some?¡±


    ¡°Uh, sure if I have time.¡±


    She hummed in approval as she put a plate in front of Adam.


    ¡°You know,¡± She began leaning over his chair. ¡°Maybe you should let our dear Mayla become a detective as she wishes. She¡¯ll have a knack for it, I can smell it! Unless¡­¡± She stood back up and brought a finger to her chin and furrowed her eyebrows in fake confusion. ¡°Is there a reason why she shouldn¡¯t work alongside you?¡±


    ¡°What? No! It¡¯s just¡­ We have enough detectives.¡± He shot back as he fingered the bacon on his plate.


    ¡°Hmm, whatever.¡± She shrugged as she receded into her room. ¡°Adam, do the dishes. And don¡¯t forget the eggs!¡± She shouted back towards us.


    I ate my breakfast in silence as I watched Adam run a soapy rag over a plate, and then place it on the drying rack. I watched his lean figure. He ran a soapy frustrated hand through his chestnuts lock after dropping the plate into the murky dishwater. His back was towards me but I could sense his tiredness in his slow movements and apathetic cleaning job. Understandable of course, it¡¯s been a busy few days. Especially for him apparently, being involved in some clandestine operation with suspicious implications. Despite the blaring red flags, there was no actual evidence for any crime other than ¡°gross indecency¡± but I¡¯m not that kind of person. Although the unfaithfulness to Monica is quite despicable. Overall Adam was shadier than a willow tree. Who exactly is this man?


    Lost in my thoughts, a sudden jingling sound broke the quiet morning. Glancing down, I noticed a pair of keys protruding from Adam''s pocket. Could they be the missing keys to the elusive last drawer? The idea seemed far-fetched; why would he carry such specific keys around? Even if they were the ones I sought, obtaining them discreetly would prove challenging. The notion of reaching towards his backside was out of the question and potentially disastrous. It seemed right now my only option was the waiting game


    ¡°It¡¯s rude to stare, you know.¡± He flicked the water off his hands as he turned towards me.


    ¡°Stare? You flatter yourself too much!¡± I retorted. ¡°You take forever to clean you know. So, where to now?¡±


    ¡°As I stated before. You are off to the morgue to do your job.¡±


    ¡°And what about you?¡±


    ¡°Does not concern you.¡±


    ¡°Ugh fine.¡± I stood up and walk towards my room to get dressed. Adam followed closely behind as he scrawled something on a piece of paper. He handed to me before I entered the room.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the address. I¡¯ll pay any carriage fees. After you are done, come back here.¡±


    ¡°How helpful. Thanks.¡±

 An Unlikely Partnership

    I walked down the chilly stone corridor. The silent metal hall was lined with windowless doors marked with numbers engraved on the door. I was headed to room ¡®0976¡¯ as per Adam¡¯s orders. The room with Agatha Lotusburg¡¯s body. I approached the door and heard mumbled yelling inside. I pushed open the door.


    ¡°Unacceptable! Unacceptable¡± a sharp voice rang out as I peeked into the room.


    ¡°I told you, sir!¡± Another voice squeaked. Only authorized personnel are allowed to examine her body at the moment!¡±


    ¡°Silence! My genius trumps any authority of you puny scientists!¡±


    I was met with the back of Detective Price¡¯s figure; His hands plastered on his hips.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry sir it¡¯s a no!¡± A young dark-colored man draped in a white lab coat stood firmly, but nervously in front of a nearby door. ¡°If you want to see the body you must get permission from Chief Ironheel or the head forensic scientist. As u aren¡¯t a forensic scientist yourself. No workarounds.¡±


    ¡°Out of my way ratbag!¡± Pigeon hissed. ¡°This crime will never be solved until I alone solve it, so make yourself useful.¡±


    The man looked past Price and saw me.


    ¡°You too! Out!¡± He shot a long lanky index finger in my direction.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind me, sir, I¡¯m a forensics scientist. I¡¯m here on behalf of Adam Clarke.


    He rolled his eyes up as he thought. ¡°Clarke¡­ Clarke¡­ Ah, the detective! In that case, I suppose you have a badge then?¡± He lowered his finger and instead outstretched his entire hand as I approached. I pulled my badge out of my coat and handed it to him. His head tilted as he looked it over.


    ¡°Alright, then Ms. Mayla go right in. If any trouble arises feel free to call for me. I¡¯m Doctor Abara.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Doctor,¡± I nodded as I walked to the now unblocked door until I was pulled back by my shoulder.


    ¡°Wait wait wait!¡± Price moaned as he grasped my shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s not fair at all!¡±


    ¡°Please leave Detective else I¡¯ll have to kick you out,¡± Abara warned.


    ¡°What¡¯s this all about?¡± I asked, looking back at Pigeon¡¯s sorrowful face and then back at Abara¡¯s stern one.


    ¡°He is throwing away the chance to solve the case, that¡¯s what!¡± Pigeon huffed.


    ¡°I already told you!¡± The doctor shouted. ¡°Authorized personal only. You can¡¯t waltz into morgues and look at bodies whenever you please.¡±


    ¡°Hm! It seems social etiquette is more important to you than finding the killer.¡±


    I sighed to myself as the two bickered back in forth until I thought of a compromise to shut them both up.


    ¡°Well, what if he goes in with me,¡± I suggested. ¡°I can make sure he stays out of trouble!¡±


    ¡°A mere apprentice such as you?¡± Abara huffed as he placed a hand on his forehead. ¡°I mean no offense really, but these are direct and strict orders from above. If I let two inexperienced personnel tamper with the body my boss would have my head. It¡¯s bad enough to have to let you in but if Detective Clarke says so¡­¡±


    ¡°I apologize for any inconvenience.¡± I lowered my head. ¡°But I can assure you there will be no issue. It¡¯ll be like nobody was even in there.¡±


    Abara pulled on his tie with a tense expression. ¡°Ugh, everyone is so bothersome.¡± He looked back at the door with a troubled expression. ¡°Fine. But make it quick. I guess if you really think you can solve the crime it won¡¯t hurt.¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± Price stood up and threw out his arms in triumph. ¡°It seems you finally came to your senses! Let us go, Mia!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Mayla!¡± I hurried after him.


    We found ourselves standing at the entrance of the room, struck by the bone-chilling cold that seemed to permeate the air, even colder than the previous room. Perhaps it was to preserve the bodies.. To our left and right, imposing black iron lockers lined the walls, casting eerie shadows in the dim light. In the center of the room, a stark white stretcher lay under the harsh glare of an overhead electric light. Lotusburg¡¯s figure, shrouded in a pristine white sheet, rested upon the stretcher, its form ominously still.


    We approached body before I stopped to ask Pigeon the question that¡¯s been itching my mind.


    ¡°So, I take it as you found some new evidence?¡± I turned around to face him. A big smirk was etched into his face.


    ¡°That I do, dear girl! I will solve this case in no time!¡± He announced proudly.


    ¡°Really?¡± I scoffed. ¡°I find that hardly likely, no offense.¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± He laughed out again as he stuck an accusing finger in my face. ¡°I would quiet down if I were you. Being in such a compromising position and all!¡±


    ¡°Compromising position? What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked!¡± He dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small yellow paper file.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°A brooch! But you already know that don¡¯t you?¡± He opened the file and brought out a diamond blood-covered brooch. He swung it between his fingertips.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked carefully. ¡°What¡¯s this have to do with me?¡±


    ¡°Why, isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± He guffawed as he put it back in the file. ¡°It¡¯s yours!¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Brooches are commonly worn by Victorian women you see. I found this specific brooch in the crime scene covered in blood. Who¡¯s the only woman who investigated the crime? You!¡± She shook his head as she chuckled, then looked at me. ¡°You should confess to your crime now! Maybe you¡¯d get a lighter sentence, you killer!¡±


    I was dumbfounded.


    ¡°First of all, you idiot we looked at the crime scene together remember? Along with Detective Clarke and Hans. If I dropped a brooch everyone would have seen it. Plus I don¡¯t even wear brooches. Even if I did drop it during the investigation, it doesn¡¯t mean I killed her. Where did you find it anyway?¡±


    ¡°That is the interesting part. It was where the body was! Right on the floor! But as you say we all investigated the crime scene together. Maybe you would have missed such a thing but I wouldn¡¯t have! Nor the great detectives! I visited the crime scene later with some officers. The outline was still there as we visited it before, but right in the middle was this brooch!!¡±


    ¡°So it was placed there after the crime and after we investigated it.. But why?¡± I mused. ¡°Who¡¯s blood is it anyway?¡±


    ¡°You ask too many questions! That is what I¡¯m here to solve. I wanted to see the body to see if it matched the one the victim wore. I¡¯m also here to retrieve a blood sample to see if it matches the victims. But that troublesome scientist! Anyhow, let¡¯s get started!¡±


    He waltzed to a nearby locker and opened it. Inside was the lady¡¯s dress on a hanger covered with a plastic bag. He looked over his shoulder and when he realized I wasn¡¯t behind them he huffed and yelled after me.


    ¡°What? Are you going to stand there and do nothing? You are a forensic scientist yes? Get some gloves on and come over here.¡± He motioned to a box of rubber gloves on a nearby countertop.


    I adjusted the gloves on my hands as I walked over to the man. He held the clothes by the hanger.


    ¡°Now, pull out the dress,¡± He instructed ¡°She wore the brooches on her lapel. All we have to do is see if it¡¯s a match.¡±


    I took out the dress. A silk indigo gown with black ribbons and straps. Black feathers. ran around the collar and train dress It would have been the most beautiful dress I¡¯ve ever seen if it wasn¡¯t for the dramatic blood stain running down the back of the dress.


    ¡°Well?¡± He questioned impatiently.


    I found my way to the lapels of the dress, also covered in feathers. Clipped on the left was a small brooch. I looked closer. It was a sliver rose-shaped frame with a sapphire in the middle. Golden ovals were on each side giving it the appearance of a flower.


    ¡°It¡¯s not the same one,¡± I told him.


    ¡°Ah?¡± He pushed me aside and looked for himself. ¡°Blasphemy! Then whose is it?¡±


    ¡°It could still be hers,¡± I suggested. ¡°Maybe she has different ones. We still need a blood sample.¡±


    ¡°Yes. quite so.¡± He sighed. ¡°Alright then!¡± He let out regaining his composure. ¡°As you are the scientist you will take the blood sample!¡± He walked over to the sheet-covered body and motioned towards it.


    ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t know how to do that,¡± I mumbled.


    ¡°You what?¡± His cerulean eyes lit up in genuine surprise. ¡°You''re completely useless! What are we to do then?¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk!¡± I retorted as I stomped my foot. ¡°I¡¯ve had to correct you on everything so far. But Doctor Abara said we could come to him with any questions. We can just ask him for help.¡±


    Pigeon was silent for a few moments until he rolled his eyes and put his arms up in a shrug.


    ¡°You do it. I don¡¯t want to talk to him.¡±


    I slowly opened the door and saw the doctor leaning against the wall, deep in thought.


    ¡°Um, doctor?¡± I asked hesitantly.


    He turned to me with an irritated expression. ¡°What? You two almost done?¡±


    ¡°Almost,¡± I replied, shuffling my feet. ¡°But I was wondering if you could take a blood sample of the body for us?¡±


    ¡°Why? There¡¯s no need.¡± He pushed off the wall and approached the door. ¡°Our first order of business was to take a sample and test to make sure it matched the blood on the murder weapon. It did. What else do you need it for?¡±


    ¡°Well, Detective Price found a bloody brooch at the crime scene and wants to see if the blood matches.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, I guess I could test the brooch for you. But no testing the samples unless I say!¡±


    Pigeon and I looked over Abara¡¯s shoulder. He was wearing goggles and gloves and holding up the brooch. On the counter on his left was a small piece of paper with the results from Agatha Lotusburg¡¯s blood test.


    ¡°Listen well you!¡± He commanded me. ¡°This is important stuff for a forensic scientist and I¡¯ll only explain it once, ok?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Ok,¡± He held up a small brush to the syringe. ¡°The method we use to analyze blood is called blood typing. Unfortunately, it does not show us who the blood exactly belongs to, only the type. It gives up the blood type out of four options: A, B, AB, and O. So it only narrows down to suspects with the same type. That being said it¡¯s perfect for proving a person innocent, or if something is not a match. If two pieces of evidence have different blood types then it is a hundred percent not blood from the same person. To summarize, if this brooch matches the blood type of Miss Lotusburg then there is a possibility it is her blood. If it does not match her blood type then it is a fact that it isn¡¯t hers. Got it?¡±


    He lowered the brush on the brooch and brushed it slightly until the tip was slightly red. Then, he placed it in a small glass vile.


    ¡°The way we test is using antigens and antibodies. Each blood type has its own antibodies and antigens that can¡¯t mix with others. Other than type O and AB. Type O has no antigens but type anti-A and anti-B antibodies. AB has both type A and B antigens but no antibodies For example. If we have a sample with A-type blood and introduce B-type antibodies, the red blood cells in the type A sample will kill those in the type B sample, meaning they aren¡¯t compatible. If there is no reaction they are the same type. So, if the blood on this brooch reacts the same way as Lotusburg¡¯s blood did then it¡¯s the same type. If it doesn¡¯t then it¡¯s not the same type and from a different person. Her type is A so if the sample isn¡¯t also A then it¡¯s from another person.¡±


    ¡°Got it, sir.¡±


    Abara took the vial and exited the room.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back. This shouldn¡¯t take long.¡±


    Me and Pigeon were left alone in the room. The awkward silence was getting to me.


    ¡°So,¡± I began. ¡°If it was her blood that would imply evidence was being withheld by someone but then later returned to the scene of the crime. But why take something as small as a brooch and not the murder weapon? And why return it at all?¡±


    ¡°Quite right.¡± He responded with a sigh. ¡°And if it isn¡¯t her blood that means someone decided to drop a brooch with a stranger''s blood in the middle of the crime scene. Perhaps to frame someone or perhaps to throw us of course. Either way, things aren¡¯t looking good for us.¡±


    ¡°No, they aren¡¯t. But this points to Miss Yoshida¡¯s innocence! She is in a prison cell meaning she couldn¡¯t have placed this brooch. But that also means there is a killer on the loose in which we have no leads.¡±


    Things weren¡¯t looking too good at all. Didn¡¯t Adam tell me this was an open-and-shut case?  How wrong he was. Things were getting muddier and muddier. And Monica. Monica wants me to retrieve the murder weapon for her. But it¡¯s inconceivable for her to be the killer so why? What¡¯s her connection in all this?


    Another question crossed my mind. The strange files on Agatha¡¯s Lotusburg¡¯s sister: Alice. Two separate files with two separate times of death and cause od death. Why on earth would Adam have them? Could it be related to this case? It happened ten years ago. Perhaps I could ask Detective Hans about it but¡­ He¡¯s shadier than Adam! Unless¡­


    ¡°Say, Pigeon.¡± I turned to the young man. He was bent over, hands on knees, goggles over his eyes. staring at the unsheathed body. Her pale figure lay nude on the stretcher. The bald, bloody spot on her head was stuck out like a sore thumb. He turned to me with enthusiasm.


    ¡°What, Maya, what! I¡¯m so close to solving this crime. Can¡¯t leave me be?¡±


    He regained his energy fast.


    I sighed. ¡°Whatever. I was wondering if Detective Hans has told you about any of his past cases. He¡¯s your mentor isn¡¯t he?¡±


    He shot me a huge grin as he lifted his goggles off his eyes, perching them on top of his feathery blond hair.


    ¡°He is great, isn¡¯t he? Heads above you especially. But no, he never talks about his past. But I am sure it is full of fabulous adventures!¡±


    ¡°Right. Well, what do you know about any past cases?¡±


    ¡°Well, I-¡± He stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. ¡° You seem awfully interested in this. Why?¡±


    ¡°Why, uh well,¡± I stuttered over my words trying to think of an excuse. ¡°I¡¯m trying to go into detective work instead of being a forensic scientist. So I want to know about some of the most famous cases to figure out what I¡¯m getting myself into.¡±


    He eyed me for a few moments until dropped his goggles back on his eyes as he gazed deeply into my soul.


    ¡°Interesting. I am certain you are lying. But why? You should tell me the truth sometime.¡±


    He paced around a bit with his hand on his chin. ¡°Ah, I thought of one! The most interesting one! The catch is it is only word of mouth. Rumors and whispers I¡¯ve heard throughout my career so I can¡¯t personally vouch for its authenticity, however, it is by far the most interesting. It happened ten years ago I believe.¡±


    Ten years ago? This oughta be good.


    ¡°Apparently a few years ago there was a series of murders going on in the shopping district. ¡®Stumped the police for months.  But somehow three rookie detectives were able to solve the case! Coincidentally it was Detective Clarke, Detective Hans, and a woman named Detective Moore.¡±


    Moore? Could that be Monica?¡±


    Pigeon stopped pacing the room and leaned in my face and whispered.


    ¡°And this is where things get dicey. Last time I heard a bobby tell this part of the story, Chief threw a proper fit! So say to no one that I told you this!¡±


    ¡°Uh, sure.¡±


    He backed up and closed his eyes, running through his thoughts.


    ¡°Apparently they were able to find one suspect. A man of the name of Mickey Andrews was said to be the only one who could have committed the crimes. As such he was promptly arrested. After a short trial, he was given the death penalty.¡±


    ¡°Death penalty?¡± I ejaculated. ¡°Then how did I never hear of it? It would have been in the papers or something!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m getting to that!¡± He snapped. ¡°It was never carried through. A few days before his scheduled execution, another person was killed in the shopping district. The same way the others were killed. So everyone was terrified they put the wrong man again. His execution was put on hold and there was a retrial. This completely overturned the prosecutor¡¯s case of him being the only one who could have done it, as long as him being in prison when the murder was carried out. However, since he already admitted to previous crimes the suggestion was thrown out that it could have been a new perpetrator. Because of this, a special verdict was being passed: Mickey Andrews was guilty until proven innocent and innocent of the new crime. His death penalty was overruled and was to be held in his cell until the new perpetrator was found. But¡­¡±


    He placed his index finger over his mouth. ¡°This is the part you must not repeat to anyone.¡±


    ¡°Ok fine, but what happened?¡±


    ¡°Before the verdict could be properly announced it was revealed false evidence was made and presented in court.¡±


    ¡°False evidence? But why?¡±


    ¡°The false evidence was presented by the prosecution and prepared by the former chief of the police: Chief Enfield and her protege Adam Clarke. Along with an unknown third party.¡±


    ¡°Adam?¡± I roared. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have done that! No way!¡±


    Pigeon shrugged. ¡°I told you this is just what I''ve heard. But because of this, the verdict was thrown away and they were forced to release Andrews and because of the double jeopardy law, he could never be retried for the murders again.¡±


    ¡°Ridiculous!¡± I cried.


    ¡°Quite true. Furthermore, presenting false evidence is a felon. The prosecutor was fired, and Enfield¡¯s title was revoked, and Detective Clarke was put on indefinite leave. Apparently, the new chief, Chief Ironheel, and Clarke¡¯s partner Detective Hans were able to pull a few strings to avoid jail time.¡±


    ¡°¡®Pull a few strings?¡¯ That sounds illegal!¡±


    ¡°It is!¡± He guffawed. ¡°But who¡¯s going to enforce it? It¡¯s the chief after all! Is he going to arrest himself?¡± His tone became serious. ¡°The truth is, there are many holes in the law and court system. Mickey Andrews should have never been let go. And the prosecutor, chief, and Detective Clarke should have received jail time. Unfortunately, it gets worse.


    They never found the one who committed the new crimes. They kept going on and on and Andrews was a free man and couldn¡¯t be retried. Until months later, he was murdered. And the crimes stopped.¡±


    ¡°What? So maybe he really did do it!¡±


    ¡°But remember one crime happened when he was in jail. Even if he did commit the rest, there is one suspect unaccounted for. A killer who was never caught.¡±


    ¡°This is insane¡­¡± I placed my hands over my mouth. False evidence. Could that have been the file I found? Should I tell Pigeon about it? But there was a bigger question on my mind.


    ¡°But then¡­ Who killed Andrews?¡±


    Pigeon was silent for a few moments, thinking over his next few words carefully. ¡°The rumor is that it was Detective Clarke and Hans and Ironheel worked to cover it up.¡± He must have seen the look of pure confusion on my face because he quickly added on. ¡°But again this is all speculation. Nothing concrete. However, it is said Detective Moore caught wind of this and confronted them and they tried to kill her too.¡±


    ¡°No way!¡± I cried out. ¡°Murdering a killer is bad, but there is no way they would have killed their friend!¡±


    ¡°Well, technically they didn¡¯t. If it really was them they failed. She collapsed on a job and was taken to a hospital. They found poison in her system. The same poison used to kill Andrews. A rare poison at that. So even if it wasn¡¯t Clarke and Hans, it is likely the same person who killed Andrews tried to kill Moore.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it¡­.¡±


    ¡°Nor I. But luckily they found the poison soon enough and was able to save her life, though she was in a coma several months. I¡¯m not sure what happened to her after that but because she was in a coma, she was never able to testify on who did it. Even though rumors were flying around Clarke and Hans, there was no base for the accusation so nothing happened.¡±


    ¡°But how!¡± I exclaimed. ¡°Adam wasn¡¯t even part of the force when this happened. Even if he wanted to there was no way he could have obtained the Yard¡¯s help.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes. There is a seperate rumor about this. Not really related to the case but adds context on what happened.¡± He bent down towards me again. ¡°If you tell Detective Hans I told you this he¡¯d kill me! But the rumor is that him and Detective Adam were really close. Like really close.¡±


    Oh. I knew all about this already.


    ¡°A-anyway. Chief Ironheel also knew Adam as a child. Even after the controversy, Detective Clarke was pretty influential in Scotland Yard. If any of this is true that is.¡±


    ¡°But why? Why would they do all this? If Andrews really was guilty then why would they need false evidence? And why would Andrews want to kill all those people in the first place?¡±


    ¡°That I do not know.¡± He responded as he made his way back to the body. ¡°After all I¡¯ve heard the one thing I¡¯m missing is the motive. So much trouble and pain to go through. But for what reason? Anyhow, It¡¯s not like it matters anymore. Let¡¯s focus on the case on hand. But why did you want to know?¡±


    Should I tell him? What if he goes and tells Cecil about what I discovered. But again, he trusted me enough to tell me all this which could certainly get him in trouble. So should I repay him by telling him what I know? Before I could figure out what to do, the door behind us opened.


    ¡°I finished the analysis,¡± Abara announced as he entered the room with a small piece of paper in hand.


    Pigeon turned around to face him. ¡°Well?¡±


    Abara handed him the paper. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if this is the results you are wanting, but the blood type on the brooch is O. Meaning it¡¯s not the same person.¡±

 A Forked Path

    ¡°Not Agatha Lotusburg¡¯s blood? Then who¡¯s is it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Again, I do not know. It only tells us the blood type.¡±


    ¡°So someone placed a bloody brooch with a strangers blood in the middle of a crime scene? This is gonna be fun.¡± Pigeon sighed.


    ¡°Sorry about that. But there¡¯s not much else I can do to help.¡± Abara said adjusting his tie. ¡°Though the chief will probably be interested in the results of the analysis. Perhaps you should start there.¡±


    I turned to Price. ¡°Looks like that¡¯s the only thing to be right now. Shall we be going?¡±


    ¡°Sure, let¡¯s.¡±


    Being trapped in a carriage with this man was not on my bucket list. We sat opposite of each other. His lanky legs were stretched on each side of me as he read a newspaper, throwing the uninteresting articles in my direction. He tapped his foot against my thigh and hummed in approval when he read something particularly interesting.


    ¡°Mia! Did you hear they are opening a zoo west of here?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Mayla!¡± I snapped, pushing his left foot away from me. ¡°And don¡¯t you think we should focus on the investigation?¡±


    He put down his paper. ¡°And what about it? Just like you said the brooch hints towards Miss Yoshida¡¯s innocence so we can rest easy now.¡±


    ¡°Rest easy? The CEO of a company was murdered as well and we still have no real suspect!¡±


    ¡°Ah, I forgot about that.¡± He ran his finger over the edge of the paper in his lap. ¡°Either way, there¡¯s no reason to stress. All killers leave a trace. The more crimes one commits the more likely they are to be caught. Things will fall in line eventually.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I sighed, fingering the hem of my petticoat. ¡°Things keep getting more complicated.¡±


    ¡°That is the life of a detective,¡± He shrugged. ¡°Speaking of which. Why not become a detective? You got a free pass from Detective Clarke himself to work for the yard after. And it¡¯s clear you aren¡¯t cut out for this whole science thing.¡±


    ¡°Says you! But¡­ I already talked to Adam about it. He said no.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be easier just to train you to be a detective? Hm, seems weird.¡± He flipped his newspaper back open, clearly done with this conversation. But I wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°So, how did you start working for the yard?¡± I asked. ¡°It seems everyone else spent years of hard work to achieve such a position.¡±


    "Ah, so you''ve come seeking advice from the renowned detective!" He exclaimed, punctuating his statement by throwing his paper in my direction "It''s quite simple, really, if one possesses exceptional intellect as I do. I demonstrated my keen insight and sharp mind throughout my academic years, leading to my swift recruitment into the metropolitan police force. I started as an officer and eventually worked my way up to become a detective. It was a rather straightforward progression, as I''ve mentioned. Yet, puzzlingly, you were plucked from the squalid streets and promptly elevated to a position of authority. Utterly baffling, and unfair if you ask me."


    ¡°So it just takes skill and hard work? Not much prior experience?¡±


    ¡°How dare you!¡± He took a sharp breath like felt insulted. ¡°Did you not listen to a word I said? Prior education and positions is needed. How you got the job is beyond me!¡± He shot.


    ¡°Yeah, me too,¡± I exhaled.


    ¡°Pfft, atleast you acknowledge it!¡±


    Though he was annoying an aggravating as hell, he was right. I¡¯m not qualified at all. What am I doing here? A young woman¡¯s freedom is on the line and some random street urchin is supposed to be the one to save her? What was I thinking? Or the bigger question: What was Adam thinking?


    The carriage came to a sudden stop outside of Scotland Yard.


    ¡°Everyone out,¡± The coachman said tersely.


    ¡°Very well sir, thank you!¡± Pigeon tossed a few coins in his direction has he pushed me aside and exited the carriage. ¡°Alright Mary, let us depart!¡±


    I entered the grand building. A group of officers were huddled together kneeling or crouched on the floor looking down at an expansive spread of papers. Gruesome pictures of the bodies from the two murders, crime scenes, reports, and analysis results. Occasionally they would point at certain papers and discuss any connections. Usually ending their inquiry with a shake of a head and muttering in disappointment. Chief Ironheel stood above the crowd, hands on his knees, and oversaw them. Adam and Cecil kneeled beside him. They glanced up when they saw us.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You two. I¡¯ve been waiting,¡± The chief said in a brusque, hushed tone. ¡°I have something important to tell you. Come to my office.¡±Pigeon and I exchanged a quick glance before giving a nod of acknowledgment to Ironheel. With a commanding gesture, Ironheel placed his sizable hand on a nearby bobby¡¯s shoulder and uttered an unintelligible command to him. After a swift motion to straighten his pants, he signaled for Adam and Cecil to follow him.


    As we ascended the stairs leading to the office, I tried to make out the serious and tense conversation the three men were having to no avail. The chief, upon approaching the door, swiftly unlocked it. We all stood at the entrance of the room, while Ironheel took his seat at his desk.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get down to business,¡± He began in his deep commanding tone. ¡°The assassin that worked for Lotusburg that we had in custody, Ambroise, has died in his cell.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I ejaculated, wide-eyed. ¡°But how?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what these two are investigating.¡± He motioned to Clarke and Hans. ¡°It happened this morning. So far the only possibility is that it was a member of the yard. As such, this info has been withheld from the general public and all other than the high-ranking members of the Metropolitan Police. However, last night he did say something interesting. Something that could have led to his death.¡±


    ¡°Well don¡¯t keep us waiting!¡± Price exclaimed.


    He sighed. Very well. ¡°As you know the suspect has made no other statements. Not a single one, so this was quite a shock. During another questioning of Ambroise with two officers, the death of the Ironclad Innovations was murdered. The suspect had an outburst. He was furious. Apparently, he was the one who was supposed to be hired to take out Neil Ottenburg. Hired by Lotusburg. He was upset that someone took his kill.¡±


    ¡°Well, that isn¡¯t too hard to believe based on the whole extortion thing going on between her and the company.¡± I mused ¡°She had a whole assassin on standby. But she died before he did, and Ambriose was in jail when the killing took place. So if it wasn¡¯t them who was it?¡±


    ¡°Indeed!¡± Pigeon added as he tapped his goggles. ¡°And the more you think about it, our little theory of the same person killed the two seems less and less likely. Killing Lotusburg makes sense, she was a criminal after all! But then why will the CEO? He was a victim. So if the murder is truly by the same person then they weren¡¯t motivated by Lotusburg¡¯s crimes so there must be another obscure motive. Or of course, we have two other perpetrators on our hands. And that¡¯s not even taking Ambroise¡¯s murder into account?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I need you to figure out. As bad as all these murders are, the possibility of someone in the yard being the killer is a top priority. They have access to millions of pieces of sensitive data and the ability to manipulate reports and crime scenes as they will. If we find the rat, then we might be able to track down the rest of the murders.¡±


    ¡°But what about Violet Yoshida?¡± I exclaimed. ¡°She is still locked in her cell. And there is plenty of evidence of her innocence. If we put the investigation into Agatha¡¯s death, then she might be locked up for several more weeks! Can¡¯t we release her?¡±


    ¡°That might not be a good idea,¡± Adam interjected from my left. His hands were crossed at his chest as he gazed out the window. ¡°So far two people related to Agatha Lotusburg have been killed: Neil Ottenburg and Ambroise. Even if she is the original killer, there is still at least one suspect out there and Miss Yoshida would be a prime target. And if she truly has not killed anyone at all then she¡¯s even a bigger target since she¡¯s currently taking the fall for the real killer.¡±


    ¡°That is true,¡± I sighed. ¡°But Ambroise was also killed in custody. It seems she is in danger no matter what.¡±


    ¡°I concede that it seems to be the case. The most we can do is fit her with protection. Although if the killer is really part of the yard then that also puts her in danger. But perhaps in there are multiple people around¡­¡± Adam kept muttering to himself about possible solutions to Yoshida¡¯s dilemma. If not even Adam knows things can¡¯t be looking good.


    ¡°Miss Yoshida will be taken care of,¡± Ironheel assured us. ¡°But finding the possible rat is of utmost importance.¡±


    ¡°Be that as it may,¡± Pigeon began carefully. ¡°It is really necessary to have four people investigating the same thing with several other open cases?¡±


    ¡°There won¡¯t be.¡± Ironheel grabbed a pristine stack of papers off his desk. He hit them against the edge of the table to straighten it. ¡°Take this. All the details on the Lotusburg and Ottenburg cases. It seems most likely those two are related. You and Detective Hans will investigate this while Mayla and Detective Clarke investigate the situation with Ambroise.¡±


    ¡°Unfair! I get the stale cases?¡± He whined.


    ¡°Not to worry,¡± Cecil interjected. ¡°If you keep up this lamentable detective job of yours, there will be a new murder to investigate in no time¡± Pigeon crossed his arms in protest but didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°Let¡¯s be kind, Cecil,¡± Adam sighed. ¡°After, this falls on us as well.¡±


    ¡°But especially them.¡±


    ¡°Time is of the essence.¡± Ironheel snapped. He clasped his hands in front of them and his gaze turned dark. ¡°The first order of business is to examine where Ambroise was murdered. He was in a secure cell. Meaning if it wasn¡¯t an officer someone had to force themselves through. Search for signs of forced entry or any other suspicious pieces of the scene. Hans and Price, you may keep up the previous investigation. You are dismissed.¡± He ordered gruffly. Ironheel could be scary when he wanted to.


    ¡°Wait, wait wait!¡± I mentally braced myself for whatever nonsense he was about the other. I looked in his direction. He flailed his arms out wildly as he spoke. ¡°This isn¡¯t fair at all! Why do I have to do the boring stuff while this useless inept girl gets to do the interesting stuff?¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± I shot angrily, shoving my index finger in his direction.¡±That¡¯s enough out of you, boy! Where do you get off?¡±


    ¡°This is getting very annoying.¡± Detective Hans announced, interrupting our bickering. ¡°If Detective Price wants to go to the newer crime scene let him. Dear Adam can join me instead.¡± He patted Adam¡¯s shoulder.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no reason for that,¡± Ironheel replied curtly as he glanced in my direction. ¡°Mayla, how about you go instead? You have not worked with Hans yet, correct?¡±


    ¡°Of course sir,¡± I bent my head down slightly in respect as I heard Pigeon do a quiet victory cheer. I discreetly stole a glance over at Cecil. He stood on Adam¡¯s left, cleaning pewter glasses frames on a handkerchief he fetched out of his pocket. As always, his expression is unreadable. While Adam pleaded with him quietly to ¡°Not leave him with the boy.¡± A reliable mindset. I brought my attention back to Cecil. Quite an enigma.  I do not know the man well, however based on the few times we¡¯ve interacted, I couldn¡¯t imagine it will be a pleasant experience.

 A Tough Time

    We walked down the corridor in silence, broken only by the muffled voices coming from downstairs.


    ¡°I need to pick something up first,¡± He told me from over his shoulder.


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    He led me down a hallway I had yet to visit. He led us to a room on the right, stopping to unlock the door.


    As the man entered the room,  I stood by the doorway, peering inside. The interior was dominated by black walls, flooring, and furniture. Must be hotter than holy hell in here. An ink curtain draped the windows, filtering out most of the sunlight, yet allowing a few rays to slip through, casting intriguing reflections on the grand writing surface. Perched on top of the writing table was a small glass jar of ink, several pens, and a metal nametag, elegantly engraved with the initials ''C. Hans.'' Across from each other, two black lovechairs were positioned with a coffee table in the middle. The sheer size of Cecil¡¯s office rivaled that of the Chief''s. He must be more significant than I thought.


    I watched him walk around the desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a plain white envelope and a small slip of paper. He reached and grabbed a nearby pen out of the holder and bent over the desk, writing something swiftly on the paper, sealing it with a wax stamp.


    ¡°We¡¯re good to go,¡± He said to me as he exited the room.


    I followed him out to the empty streets. The news of Lotusburg and Ottenburg¡¯s death finally reached the public, as well as the disquieting fact there is no leads towards a suspect. As such, people were a bit paranoid about traveling about. Bleak clouds blanketed the skies, making them a greyish hue, matching the tone of the current affairs. A cold chill fell over me. I silently prayed I wore my coat as Monica told me. To distract myself, I peeked over Cecil¡¯s shoulder at the stark white envelope he clasped between equally pale hands.


    ¡°So, uh, what¡¯s that for?¡± I asked cautiously.


    ¡°A transferring order. I¡¯m going to transfer Violet Yoshida to a prison cell.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I grasped him by his shoulder, whirling him around towards me. ¡°Are you mad? We literally discussed this moments ago! Miss Yoshida is innocent! All the evidence points away from her! And Pigeon found a bloody brooch at the crime scene after she was arrested!¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± He dusted off his shoulder. ¡°But Adam and the boy aresearch the holding station and she¡¯s in their way. Furthermore, someone with access to the station killed the assassin. They would have no problem killing her as well.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ Prison?¡± I exclaimed. ¡°They will treat her so badly! What if something happens?¡±


    ¡°Hardship builds character,¡± He shrugged. ¡°And let¡¯s stop wasting time.¡± He headed off towards a stopped carriage before I could retort. With a huff, I followed after him. This job was gonna be the death of me.


    We sat across each other in awkward silence, other than the rolling carriage. I crossed my arms and threw my head in the direction of the window as I was still cross with him. Despite myself, I threw occasional glances at the intriguing man in front of me, who was staring down at the envelope in his hands. A truly peculiar man. And if what I heard from Pigeon rings true, he¡¯s surrounded by even stranger circumstances. Even disregarding that, his relationship with Adam is of interest. Adam¡¯s paramour. According to Price, there were always rumors circulating around Scotland Yard about the means of their relationship. But I was able to confirm it with my own eyes. Though it¡¯s none of my business, if they really were together could Cecil and Ironheel have really managed to get Adam out of jailtime? And would Adam really fabricate evidence and commit a murder with Cecil? Then try to kill Monica to keep her quiet? Monica¡¯s condition, the strange autopsy reports in Adam¡¯s desk, and the countless other lies the duo have tried to cover up. Though it hurt to admit it, the evidence was piled against them. Were these two great detectives really psycho killers in disguise? What part does Ironheel play in this and why would he help them but then ask for me to spy on Adam? Does Monica know?


    I sorted through my thoughts. What Pigeon told me is purely speculation. But what I do know is that Adam has suspicious files on Alice Lotusburg. Coincidentally, Agatha Lotusburg¡¯s sister. The files themselves were dated back ten years ago, during the Micke Andrews case. I could presume she was killed during. And since Adam had access to the files, he worked on the case. Or at least was present in Scotland Yard when it happened.


    But that is where it came to an abrupt end. I knew nothing about Cecil, Monica, Mickey Andrews, or the old Chief. All I had to go from was the fruitful word of Pigeon. But he worked directly under Cecil. And obviously, he is not shy to share any info he collects. Perhaps if I got on his good side I could get his help in figuring this all out. Ironheel asked me specifically to ¡®be his eyes.¡¯ Maybe by doing so, I could squeeze out a bit of info. Finally Monica. My best bet seemed to be talking to her face-to-face. But did she truly know anything? At the very least she seemed to hold some disrelish to her very own husband. And very much so Cecil. Could it be a sense of suspicion towards the two men¡¯s relationship or more? And why on earth would she need a murder weapon?


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    I was broken out of my thoughts by Cecil¡¯s voice.


    ¡°We are almost there,¡± He stated. ¡°Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°Yes sir,¡± I nodded. But I didn¡¯t know what to even be ¡®ready¡¯ for. Nobody actually briefed me on the situation. It seems a hobby of Scotland Yard to send officers in dangerous situations blind.


    I glanced back up at Cecil, who was leaning intently towards the window, his gaze fixed on the ever-approaching silhouette of the station. Seated cross-legged, he wore a sleek, black suit¡ªThe same type Adam usually wears, although he is gray. It made me wonder if it was the official uniform for detectives, though Pigeon¡¯s distinctive wardrobe seemed to suggest otherwise. But then he didn¡¯t seem like the type to conform to rules.


    Cecil¡¯s ensemble was a study in monochrome. From his polished black dress shoes and tailored black trousers to his dark suit and onyx hair, he was an epitome of noir. Even his glasses were framed in black, and now that I thought about it, his entire office was shrouded in the same shadowy hue. If I draped a cape over him and sent him off to Transylvania, I¡¯m positively certain he¡¯d be mistaken as a vampire.


    The abundance of darkness only served to highlight his piercing blue eyes¡ªeyes reminiscent of Monica¡¯s but completely devoid of the warmth and gentleness that characterized hers, instead stark and empty. In comparison, Cecil struck me as a stark downgrade from Monica. What was Adam thinking? Though Cecil wasn¡¯t as overtly handsome as Adam, or as beautiful as Monica, he could pass for ¡®cute,¡¯ but that impression quickly vanished upon hearing him speak. It was noticeable where he rubbed off on Pigeon, who was just as, or perhaps even more vexing. Does this city produce any normal men?


    As the carriage rolled away behind us, I could hear the faint sound of its wheels against the cobblestone road. The detective wasted no time, as he approached the large, imposing building. As we stepped through the heavy wooden doors, the clicking of Miss Williams''s typewriter filled the room with a rhythmic melody. She paused her typing to glance up at us.


    ¡°O-oh! Detective Hans. How are you doing this day? ¡­Did you need something?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He approached her with the envelope outstretched. ¡°You can give this to the proper authority correct? It¡¯s transfer orders for Violet Yoshida.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± She opened the envelope and looked it over quickly, before pocketing it. ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll give this to Paul. So then, is she the killer?¡±


    ¡°Yoshida killed nobody!¡± I cried out. ¡°But he wants to send her to prison anyway!¡±


    ¡°My,¡± Williams covered her mouth in horror. ¡°That¡¯s horrible! We should catch the real killer instead!¡± She placed her fists on her hip. ¡°Shame on you Mr. Hans!¡±


    ¡°I already explained this to you!¡± He sighed turning his head in my direction. ¡°See what you started?¡±


    ¡°Hmph! If you guys did a better job we¡¯d already have the real killer and custody and not have to worry about Violet¡¯s safety!¡± I protested.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± He waved his hand, dismissing my argument. ¡°We need to get out of here anyway. Adam will be here soon. Plus I suppose we should head to the original crime scene and find probably nothing.¡±


    ¡°Well maybe with that attitude.¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Dear Adam is coming here?¡± Harriet lit up as she clasped her hands together. ¡°Oh. But I¡¯m sure it¡¯s about the murder, huh? Not even I am allowed to enter that holding cell.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that makes sense.¡± I mused. ¡°You were here during the time of the murder. That¡¯d make you a potential suspect. But it¡¯s strange to even have you working here after all that. On that point, did anyone suspicious come in on the day of the murder?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± She said shaking her head. ¡°Only other officers. However, they all have to check in before I let them back there. So I have all their names on file if you want it.¡±


    ¡°No need.¡± Cecil intercepted. ¡°This is Adam¡¯s job, not ours. Don¡¯t wanna steal all their fun. But I¡¯m sure they¡¯d like that file.¡±


    ¡°Of course! I can¡¯t let Adam down!¡± She hurried back to her desk and sorted through a stack of files with a determined expression. ¡°I¡¯ll have it ready for him before he even walks in the door!¡±


    ¡°Fantastic. Again, we should get going.¡± He swiftly turned around and walked towards the exit. ¡°You have the carriage fee this time by the way.¡±


    ¡°What? I haven¡¯t even been paid yet!¡± I yelled after him, purposely omitting the fact that Adam has given me a fair amount of money for occasions like this, as well as the hidden pouch of coins Ironheel gave me to spy on my boss. He completely ignored my protest so there was nothing else I could do but follow behind him and groan loudly to express my disdain


    This week seemed to be rife with strange coincidences. The moment Cecil stepped outside, he was unexpectedly body-slammed by Adam. The collision was so abrupt that Cecil stumbled back, nearly losing his balance. Serves him right.


    ¡°Ah, sorry, Cecil!¡± Adam said with a hint of insincerity. ¡°We¡¯re running a bit behind. What are you two doing here?¡± He glanced between me and Cecil, who was still trying to compose himself.


    ¡°Dropping off some stupid transfer order,¡± I replied. ¡°But we¡¯ll get out of your way now.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, you shall!¡± Pigeon chimed in, his voice tinged with mock enthusiasm. He pushed past Adam with a dramatic flair. ¡°While the real detectives handle the investigation, why don¡¯t you, young lady, amuse yourselves with something less demanding, like playing with dolls?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so dismissive!¡± Adam shot back, his tone edged with irritation. ¡°Although she may not look it, she¡¯s very capable!¡± His defense seemed more reflexive than genuine, a nod to the lingering prejudices even the most progressive men can¡¯t always shake.


    ¡°Enough chatter,¡± Cecil cut in, his voice firm but resigned. ¡°Miss Williams has been waiting very patiently for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she has,¡± Adam muttered, rubbing his temples in exasperation.


    A brief, uncomfortable silence followed as we all exchanged glances, unsure of what to do next.


    ¡°Well¡­ Let¡¯s get going,¡± Adam finally said, clearing his throat.


    ¡°Of course, Detective Clarke!¡± Pigeon said with an exaggerated grin. ¡°Now you¡¯ll get to see my detective skills in action!¡± He hummed a tune as he strutted off, clearly pleased with himself.


    I sighed and backed up to let them through. I was getting so sick of this.