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.”
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“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.”