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.

Stolen story; please report.

“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 dîner.” 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.