"I'm truly sorry about this, Miss Williams," Adam said with a grimace.

"Adam! How could you do this to me, you brute? You know I didn’t kill anyone!" Harriet’s voice was a mixture of outrage and desperation as she tugged violently against the handcuffs, her face flushed with indignation.

Adam tightened his grip on the chain connecting her cuffs, his expression unyielding.

"Please, just stop resisting.”

"You jerk!" Harriet spat out the insult, her frustration palpable.

Adam chose to ignore her angry outburst, focusing instead on Pigeon, who fidgeted nervously near the front doors.

"Did you deliver the letter?" Adam asked, his tone brooking no argument.

"Yes, sir! A bobby came and took it to him. But, uh, is all this really necessary? It was just a necklace, after all."

"It’s a crucial piece of evidence," Adam replied firmly.

"Well, whatever you say. But honestly, Boss, I've never met anyone who despises jewelry as much as you do!"

Adam turned back to Harriet, who was still writhing and glaring at him.

"So, is Paul truly not here, Harriet?" he asked, beginning to move her towards the exit.

"I’ve already told you no! Why would I lie about that? You really are a rude man! Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?"

"It’s my job," Adam sighed, clearly frustrated. "If you’re innocent, you’ll be cleared in due course. Just bear with it for a little while, alright?"

"Humph! I can’t fathom how Monica puts up with you! I can’t! The nerve of you to waltz up to my desk and arrest me without any consideration! And don’t even get me started on how you’ve been treating me! You stupid little boy!"

Pigeon stepped aside to let Adam pass, eyeing the interaction with a mix of sympathy and apprehension.

"Detective Price, please lock up the station after we leave. The keys should be on her desk," Adam instructed.

"Sure thing, Boss. But maybe you should take a deep breath," Detective Price suggested with a hint of concern. "Ever since you saw that necklace, you’ve seemed a bit, um, tense." Nonetheless, he quickly made his way to Harriet’s desk to retrieve the key ring.

The three stood outside on the damp street lined with lit streetlamps to penetrate the fog in spite of it being high noon. The roads, still eerily empty after the news of a new killer allowed stray dogs to roam the sidewalks and sift through the trash. Pigeon leaned on a streetlamp watching the duo from the corner of his eye. Adam still held on to the chains between the woman’s handcuffs as he looked down at a fancy stopwatch he held in his right hand as he mentally planned out the schedule for the rest of the day. After he was done, he placed it back into one of the many pockets of his trenchcoat and stared down at his shoes. Harriet stared up at the clouds. The light breeze blew her ruby hair, observing her face from view.

Price decided to speak up. “So where exactly are we taking her? We just left the holding station right?”

It took several moments for Adam to answer. Finally, he lifted his head and tilted it in the young man’s direction.

“She is the only one on duty here. Since she’s being arrested there’s nobody else to keep an eye on her or the building so we will just skip the holding station and send her straight to jail,”

“Oh dear.”

“Jail?” Harriet cried out whirling around to face the man. “C’mon Adam! You can’t be serious! Let’s use common sense here.”

He ignored her, instead continuing on to Pigeon. “On that same point, I forgot about this earlier, you need to go fetch Violet Yoshida. There is no one to watch her easily. Plus, Cecil was planning on transferring her anyway.”

“Ah right. Can’t say she’ll be too pleased about this.”

“But it’s in her best interest.” Adam dismissed. “Hurry along now.”

Pigeon walked down the corridor. With the only two other people inside the place being a corpse and an accused killer, it was a bit eery. Regardless, he was going to do what he was told. No matter how dubious the circumstances were. Like, they were really, really strange! Adam really never struck him as the aggressive type, albeit he had only formally met him a few days ago. Nonetheless, it seemed pretty out of character and gave Pigeon a sinking feeling in his gut. The locket that started all of this sat snuggly in his pant pocket. And no matter how many times he looked it over he couldn’t find anything overly significant. Perhaps it belongs to the killer? On the same line of thought, maybe the murderer was a police officer and Mr. Clarke recognized the locket as one of his colleagues’. Before anything, he had to follow his orders. He’d get to the bottom of this eventually, he reassured himself as he opened the door to Yoshida’s cell.

She looked strikingly different as compared to the first few days he saw her. Her hopeful demeanor was entirely gone. Instead, she sat in the corner, head on her knees as went in and out of sleep. Her kimono was replaced with a striped jumpsuit and grime-covered socks. Her hair was equally a mess as it sat in a tangle over her left shoulder.

Pigeon took a step towards her, and another, and another, but she didn’t look up. So instead he kneeled down and poked her in her arm.

“Miss Yoshida!” He announced, “I’m here to take you to jail!”

She lifted her head and gave him an accusatory, but fatigued glare. After a few seconds, her expression softened.

“Oh, you are that boy. I remember you. With that girl. Are you here to let me go?”

“Ah, no, no not quite!” He laughed. How was he supposed to break the news to her? “I’m actually here to transfer you to jail!”

She gasped quietly and her eyes widened. Pigeon was sure she was about to cry to had to ameliorate.

“It’s the order of superiors! It’s Detective Hans and Clarke’s fault so yell at them when you get the chance, not me. The truth is someone was murdered right next door. Pretty brutally too. Blood and brains everywhere! And they had no idea who did it and if they plan on killing again. So they are just a bit worried about your safety.”

“Oh my gosh!”

“Also, the secretary here was arrested and the guard is apparently off duty so there is nobody to keep you under wraps if you decide to kill anyone else. Anyhow, up we go!” He swiftly clasped handcuffs over her hands and dragged her to her feet. “You better walk fast, Boss isn’t in a good mood!”

Adam heard the sound of scuffling footsteps and the door swinging open. He turned around. The young boy was hurrying towards him with Yoshida’s distraught figure in pursuit.

“All done and dusted, Mr. Clarke! I thoroughly terrified her enough to come with us!”

“ I didn’t tell you to do all that.” He sighed. “But what done is done.” Come on now.

He dragged Harriet roughly toward the police wagon, a robust and imposing vehicle designed specifically for the secure transportation of multiple prisoners. The wagon's exterior was an austere gray, its metal body reinforced with thick steel plates to deter any tampering. The windows were barred with heavy iron, allowing only limited visibility from the outside. Inside, the space was stark and utilitarian, divided into separate compartments with more steel bars to ensure the prisoner's confinement. Only a few of these specialized wagons were in service at Scotland Yard, as they cost an arm and a leg to build.

“I can’t believe you expect me to get in there!” Harriet spat venomously as Adam thrust her through the reinforced metal door. “Just wait until Monica hears about this. Just wait! She’ll be absolutely furious!”

“I’m sure she shall,” Adam replied with a cold detachment, slamming the door shut behind her. He then turned to Pigeon, who was waiting nearby. “Put Miss Yoshida in the compartment on the other side, and make sure the door is locked securely.”

“Your wish is my command, sir,” Pigeon replied with a nod. He guided Violet around to the rear of the carriage, where the door on the opposite side awaited. As he opened it, he cast a wary glance at Violet. “I suggest you behave yourself,” he said. “It’s in your best interest.”

“Oh, alright then.” Violet sighed deeply as she climbed inside, her expression a mix of resignation and anxiety. She took a seat beside Harriet, who was still mumbling to herself. “Miss Williams, hello! What were you arrested for?”

“Absolutely nothing!” Harriet’s voice was filled with frustration and indignation.

“Oh dear… I truly hope things do improve for you.” Violet attempted a reassuring smile, despite her overwhelming fatigue. Pigeon slammed the door closed. He then hopped up next to Adam.

“To the prison please!” He told the bobby.

“Very well sir.” He whipped the reigns and let out a ‘hyah!’ and the horses rolled forward.

Pigeon watched the trees and buildings fade into the fog. The sinking feeling in his stomach grew as he made occasional glances through the bars at Harriet’s lowered head and Violet’s shaking and sobbing figure then back up at Detective Clarke’s stone-cold face. He recalled the story he told to Mayla. About some cases ten years ago. How about Mr. Clarke, Mr. Hans, and Chief Ironheel were responsible for the death of an alleged killer, the poisoning of Detective Moore, and cover-ups and falsified evidence? The truth is, it’s more of a fable. A story officers tell each other on their break to impress their coworkers or a story they tell rookies to terrify them about the ‘evil’ detectives they were about to work under. Of course, it was just in good fun, but something about Mr. Clarke be able to turn his morality off like a faucet was a bit, well, downright scary. Especially to treat a woman you’ve known for years in such a manner! Pigeon was no statue of an upstanding citizens himself, but he knew where to draw the line. It wasn’t a stretch to assume a person like Clarke was capable of such a thing. I mean all fables have to have a sliver of truth, right? But, it was a horrible thing to think about his superiors. Maybe it was that girl and her paranoia rubbing off on him. Or maybe he was right to worry. But even so, what was he supposed to do about it? Call out the two top detectives and the chief of the police? Inconceivable.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I shouldered past a cluster of officers and bobbies, their conversations a murmur of frustration over the scant evidence available. As I neared the staircase, now cordoned off with yellow police tape, I prepared to step over it, but a sharp voice halted me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I turned to see a stout, grizzled man glaring at me with a mix of authority and skepticism.

“Authorized personnel only, ma’am,” he added, his tone brooking no argument.

I straightened and cleared my throat.

“Ah, yes. I’m a forensic scientist, Mayla!” I said, fumbling my badge out my spencer jacket and presenting it to him. The man scrutinized it closely, his brows knitting together in suspicion.

“On whose authority?” he challenged, jabbing a finger toward me with palpable suspicion.

“Chief Ironheel’s, sir!” I replied, meeting his gaze with equal firmness. “He instructed me to investigate the crime scene. I’m also here with Detective Hans.”

The inspector’s demeanor shifted as he processed my response. “Ah,” he said, lowering his finger and visibly relaxing. “I’m Inspector Thomas. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, sir!” I said brightly, turning back to the staircase. “The last time I was here with the detectives, we encountered a lady named Bernice Davenport. Do you know if she’s still around?”

Inspector Thomas’s expression darkened slightly, and he crossed his arms, a hint of irritation in his voice. “Yes, that lass. Chief instructed us not to arrest or move her. She’s been a right handful for my team. Probably still causing trouble. She chased them out to the hedge garden a while ago. If you’re looking to speak with her, that’s where she’ll be, but don’t expect much cooperation.”

“Thank you for the information, Inspector,” I said, nodding appreciatively. “I’ll head over there right away.”

As soon as I stood outside my ears were instantly assaulted by the sound of yelling and arguing. It was apparent Davenport was out here.

I peeked past a hedge to the clearing beyond the garden. The woman stood, stomping her feet and swinging her arms wildly at a quartet of officers.

“I told you for the last time! Piss off!” She shrieked

“I-I’m trying to tell you, ma’am! It’s our orders!” One of them yelled back. I caught his attention. “Oh, oh you tell her!” He demanded, pointing his finger at me, then back at Davenport.

“Don’t care! All of yew’ scram!” The group of men looked at each other, defeated.

“Uh, Miss Davenport, I was hoping to actually speak with you.”

“Not happening!” She shrieked as she whirled around towards me. “An’ don’ think I up n’ forgot yer’ lass! I remember you!”

“Yes, well sorry about that!” I chuckled nervously. “But I was hoping I could speak to you about Agatha Lotusburg. What she was like before her demise and what all you did for her.”

“You-hm?”

“Indeed. According to the information I have, Agatha Lotusburg had a sister who died ten years ago. Other than that I don’t have any records of any family members or friends. Since her circle is so small, if you can shed light on her life, then perhaps we can find a suspect!”

She glared at me for a very long three seconds until she shooed the men away.

“You actually wan’ know about her?” She inquired. “All them’ others jus’ wan’ go through her stuff!”

“Of course!” I reassured her. “Any info you have about her will be helpful!”

Once again she stared deep into my soul, then let out a sigh. “Fine then. Follow me inside.”

I settled on a cushioned stool in the dining area. My fingers tapped nervously on the gold-bordered marble countertop. Truthfully, I never expected to get this far. I just thought she would chase me off. But now I actually have a chance to get some info. Better not mess it up!

` Davenport stood at the sink running a rag over dishes, in which I assumed were left there before the murder. Was there really any point in cleaning them? Was anyone really going to use them ever again?

“When she was but a lass both her parents died of scarlet fever. I wus’ told. I actually neva’ worked as her maid ‘til her sis’s death.”

“Yes… Alice Lotusburg.” I recalled. “She died ten years ago in a murder spree.”

“Quite true,” She sighed. “Agatha was torn ta’ bits. They were quite close. After that, she wus’ mentally never the same.”

“How so?” I asked, intrigued.

She put down the mug she was cleaning. “As you say, she had no friends or such. Hol’ up in her room all day till’ her death. Obsessing over the weird circumstances of her sis’s death. I wus’ supposed to be her maid, as well as keep a watchful eye on her.”

I thought about what Pigeon told me. It seemed a commonly held belief that ten years ago, something was amiss with the Mickey Andrews case. There were several questions that never got answered.

“I’ve been told about that.” I nodded. “There’s a theory that some… Odd things were happening. Do you know anything about that?”

“Not other than wut’ she told me.” She answered. “She believed there were multiple killers at the time. The man who died, Mickey Andrews was one of em’. She also believed Mickey Andrew’s was killed by some group called the ‘Lion’s Den’ or wutever’.”

Lion’s Den… Detective Hans mentioned that.

“Interesting… Did she think Andrews was the one who killed her sister?”

“She didn’t know,” She shrugged, “But she was certain he played some sort of part in it. So when Lion’s Den killed em’…”

“Hmm?”

Davenport froze for a second, until she picked the mug back up and kept cleaning it.

“Never mind that. But she nev’ let her sis’s death go.”

Was she going to mention what I thought she was?

“Miss Davenport,” I started in a hushed whisper. “According to my information, Lady Lotusburg was involved in some sort of extortion, as well as supporting the Lion’s Den financially. Do you know anything about that?”

She thought over her words carefully. “...That Lion’s Den wuz’ her life for a while. Until everything went downhill of course. I don’ know the specifics but I did pick up her mail. She had loads of acquaintances. None good.”

So she knew about the blackmail letters, did she?

“Yes, we’ve collected some of those letters. Did you ever mean any of her correspondents?”

“Nah’, and I don’t think she did either. All she did was receive letters and ship off a bloody fortune every few days. Her parents left her a ton of money. ‘Owever, it wasn’t enough. She wus’ part of some shady affairs with some businesses

So she knew about the extortion huh? So it really was to pay off the blackmailers

“You knew about all these letters and extortion… But you didn’t report it?” I asked cautiously, not trying to drop her back into a foul mood.

“My job was to protect her! ‘Course I thought of that. It was my first thought. ‘Owever they made it very clear if the cops were involved things would go south.”

“They threatened her?”

“Obviously! Nobody gives away so much money for fun ya’ know!”

Of course! I mentally facepalmed. There had to be a reason why she was giving them money. But then, what was the reason she was being blackmailed in the first place?

“Miss Davenport, earlier you mentioned something going ‘south.’ Do you know what that was?”

“Nah’, but I did assume it’d had somen’ to do with the Lion’s Den fundin’ as it stopped shortly after.”

This seemed like key information. I thought over everything as I twisted a strand of hair around my finger. Davenport was able to confirm she was funding an organization called the ‘Lion’s Den.’ Mister Hans’s theory seemed to hold true so far. As soon as she started to get blackmailed, the funding stopped. They had to be related!

“This has all been very helpful Miss Davenport thank you very much. Is there anything else you can tell me regarding the subject?”

“Not ‘pecifically no. But in the la’er months before she died, she acted all strange!” She exclaimed patting her cheek. “She claimed someone wus’ comin’ for her and nevea’ let it go! At first I thought she finally los’ it, owever it turned out she was right! On the night was poisoned she begged me to-”

“Wait, what?” Did she know about the poisoning? But how. Not even Scotland Yard knew about it until the autopsy! “How did you know about the poisoning?” Could she be the one who tried to assassinate her? But didn’t I discuss with the detectives that it was the Lion’s Den who killed her?

“Well, I…” She became very interested in the plate she was cleaning. “She told me she felt strange an’ thought someone poisoned her and she didn’t think she had much time left.”

“And you didn’t call a doctor?” I questioned, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I was panicked! Mo’eover, cyanide is a fast ac’ing posion. For me to fetch a doctoa’ and them to come all the way he’e she would’ve have been dead already!”

“And how did you know it was cyanide? Not even Agatha could have known that, meaning she couldn’t have told you. Unless you are the one who poisoned her?”

“‘Ow dare you, ya’ hoydon! I’d neva’ posion the lady! Ya’ here me? Neva!” She slammed down the plate.

“But who else then, Miss Davenport?” I sighed exasperatedly. “Somehow you knew about the poisoning and the fact it was cyanide. Nobody can instantly know what poison they ingested. Plus the crime itself was reported at 6:20, but she officially died at 6:34. The cops arriving, and Yoshida alike, arrived shortly after. Assuming the one who reported the crime was the one who poisoned her, there was only a fourteen interval between the time of death and when she was poisoned. In which you very graciously admitted to me you were present. Furthermore, only the staff and Lady Lotusburg herself have the key to her bedroom which she keeps locked. The only staff in the building is you. If that is not enough cyanide must be ingested. You are the only one with access to her food. But there is some silver lining for you!” I professed. “If you are truly the poisoner, it would have been very hard for you to not notice the true killer in the act. If she was dead at 6:34 and poisoned around 6:20 it does take a few minutes for the symptoms to show. If you were there while she was suffering the effects of the poison then it would be only a few second interval for the killer to sneak in and hit her with the statue. Of course, unless you are the one who did that. But that still doesn’t explain your vast knowledge on the poison you see.”

“Ngh!”

I fell into an even quieter whisper and leaned in. “The truth is ma’am I suspected you from the very beginning but the Chief made specific orders not to arrest you, despite the strange circumstances. Do you know anything about that? Though at least one of these things must be true: First, you poisoned Lady Lotusburg yourself, second is that alternatively, you are the one who truly killed her with the statue, third is that for some odd reason, you did both. Regardless it is quite clear you know something about both the posioner and killer. One of them is you of course but I’m more interested in the other. You are the only one with direct connections to Lady Lotusburg, it’s logical for you to have some sort of connection in the crime. But who was the other? She was a shut-in in you told me. So who had enough of a reason to kill a person they never even met? A confession and any info shining a light on that would be quite helpful, miss.”

She got very still. The only movement was the shaking of her shoulders. The only sound was her trembling breathing.

“You, you won’t let it go huh?”

“You know I can’t do that, Miss Davenport.”