CAMDEN'S NOTES

Timmy: the kidnapped boy.

              : the mother of the victim.

             : benefactor, old friend of the deceased husband and father .

Margaret Hardin: young woman who visits the family often, witness to the benefactor's first appearance.

Mr. Hardin: Margaret's father, has bad temper.

QUESTIONING MRS. OSBORN

The house, for obvious reasons, was not big, and did not have many rooms available, so the arrangement that they could come up with was for the detective to use the first floor's drawing room, while everyone else waited outside guarded by someone – who should have been one of the policemen, but ended up being Mr. Hardin, since the two insisted in being in the room for the interrogation to make sure that it was all up to police standard. Alderton needed to remind himself to find better solutions, get people to his office if possible, that arrangement wasn't comfortable for anyone. He knew that it wouldn't take too long to solve this one (he was right this time), at least there was that. Besides, not even Mr. Price and Mr. Dallas could ruin his current good mood caused by having Miss Camden by his side as an assistant.

Mrs Osborn sat opposite to them, with a handkerchief in her hand, doing her best to suffocate sobs. He thought for a moment to try to console her, although he couldn't say he was a champion at it; after a moment of thinking, he concluded that she might prefer to have the mystery solved as quickly as possible.

"When did you last see your son?"

"I..."

"We already told you that, Alderton," interrupted Mr. Price. "Why don't we skip ahead to the useful things?"

And there came his partner too: "Yeah, new things, with your little tricks."

The detective did not move his gaze an inch, as if blocking off the undesired image. "I need to hear the testimony directly from the witness, so that I can make my own observations, no tricks. Please, go on Mrs Osborn."

"Well, I saw him yesterday in the evening... He went to bed early, or at least I thought he did... until..."

"That's not how you said it to us, lady," interrupted Mr. Dallas, this time.

And there came the second half of the thick thieves: "Are you trying to lie, Mrs Osborn? That's an offense, you know that, right?"

Before Alderton could get over his furious frustration just enough not to yell at the two, Miss Camden sprung up. "Gentlemen, pardon the intrusion, I just wanted to share an idea, it is alright with the professionals." Without waiting enough to get some kind of permission, she went on: "I was thinking that the investigation would be so much more efficient if we exchanged more throughoutly the information we have already obtained, and then carry on with the interrogations."

"I must admit that is quite sensible, Miss."

"Even too much for our John." And the two laughed.

"Very well! Shall we take this outside so that we don't do it in front of the poor mother?" While speaking she moved in such a way as to slyly herd the two men toward the door.

"Shouldn't he come too?"

"Oh, no, there is no need," she assured with the most polite manners she could channel. "As his assistant I know all he knows. I took the notes!"

Price stopped near the exit, imitated by his colleague. He looked at the woman with suspicion – Alderton couldn't see her face, therefore he imagined it as unperturbed as ever – then at him. "If we go out, will you continue the questioning? Because you can't do that."

"Oh, I couldn't. What's the point of having an assistant if she's not with me during the important parts of the investigation? And I need to know all your precious insights to carry on properly."

Ignorant of the tinge of sarcasm in his words, the officer appeared satisfied enough, and finally went out, along with the other. Miss Camden stole a look behind her back; he responded with an enthusiastic nod of approval.

Now that they were gone, he had free reign.

"I apologize for the interruptions. You were saying that you saw him yesterday, in the evening."

The woman looked back at the door, then at the detective, with utmost confusion on her face. When she started to speak, she hesitated: "Yes... I thought he had gone to bed early without telling me... he wasn't like himself all day, so I imagined he might have been a bit sick... this morning I found a note here on the table..." She handed him a piece of paper that she had in her other hand. "I wanted to show this to the policemen, they didn't let me..."

Alderton took it and read it: 'Mrs Osborn, I have your son. I will send another note with my requests for giving him back.'

"It's his handwriting," she added, and her voice cracked, ending in full sobs.

He waited a minute, until she seemed calm enough to speak again. "We will find him, you have my word," he asserted, with a serious tone. "Let me ask you just one more question. Mr. Hardin told me that you heard him argue with Mr. Wright..."

"Oh!" she exclaimed with pathos. "I know it may look like it, but he has nothing to do with this, detective. Take one look at him, he is just as worried sick as me. He loves Timmy as his own. Oh!" and she folded into her lap, sobbing once again.

In a way, he'd gotten an answer; he wasn't getting anything more, for now.

QUESTIONING MARGARET HARDIN

Having sent the woman upstairs to her room, he opened the door ajar. Miss Camden was standing a bit farther from the group, with the two policemen giving their backs to the entrance. They were speaking with enthusiasm of some event, he couldn't quite catch what kind. No matter: he quietly ushered in the next witness. Her father, who stood in a position from which he could observe Mr. Wright, and side-eye the other three, now reserved a glare for Alderton. He wasn't the star of the show, despite his best efforts: the benefactor stood there, tense, fidgeting with his hands, corroborating the mother's testimony.

"Mrs Osborn is in her room. She needed some time," the detective said out loud, looking nowhere, as if talking to himself, before going back in. "So, Miss Hardin... Your father told me that you know this family well, is that right?"

She nodded. "Yes I do. Our house is near here. I met Mrs Osborn while coming back from a walk in the fields outside of town, she was coming back from working at the mill. She is such a strong, loving woman, doing all she can to give her child a decent life... I was so moved I had to support her how I could... she never accepted my money, but she did accept that I teach Timmy. I have been coming three times a week since then, it must have been at least six months ago, if not more."

Standard telling of a story, no strange element to it, except for the fact that the young lady did not look him in the face once: her eyes were always on her lap or wandering around. That alone wasn't enough evidence, she might have been nervous from the difficult situation her dear friends were in, or intimidated by the idea of being questioned; however, there was a possibility that she was hiding something. He needed to be on the lookout for that.

"I see... and when was the last time you saw little Timmy?"

"It was yesterday, sir. I made some lunch for him, and stayed for a couple of hours."

"How did he seem to you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir..."

"Did he seem strange? Sick, maybe?"

She fidgeted with her hands. "I... Maybe, I don't know... He does usually have lots of energy, as any child... Yesterday he was a bit more serious, but I'm not sure that's the right word to describe him..."

"What about Mr. Wright? What can you tell me about him?"

She looked up for the first time, and said: "I can't say that I know him as well as Mrs Osborn, sir... He did give me the impression of a good and honest man. I believe... I believe he loves them, and would do anything to take care of them. He is very respectful of their... complicated past with his friend. Never pushed them to tell him anything they didn't want to. I know because the missus talks to me a lot, sir, I'm her only woman friend."

"They did find the boy's brooch in his work bag, though, didn't they?"

She scrunched her face. "Perhaps they did. So what? The man comes here often. It might have accidentally fallen there. If I may be honest, sir, he has no reason to want to kidnap Timmy. He would never hurt Mrs Osborn on purpose. If you saw how he looks at her... Maybe I'm too much of a romantic... and yet! That, to me, is a kind of love you cannot fake so easily. He cannot hide it either, though he tries, for the sake of being respectful." When she finished her passionate speech, her face was all red from the exertion.

"Are you sure Mr. Wright is innocent?"

"I am most certain of it."

"Then who do you think could have done this?"

Her gaze lowered once more, her whole body drooping from being upright. "That I could not tell you, sir. It is a mystery."

"One last thing, miss. Can you tell me about this morning? When did you arrive?"

"Mrs Osborn came to my house. She was desperate, poor woman! My father was there. I begged him to contact the police. Together with her I went to get Mr. Wright at his job."

She seemed to at least be truthful about what she thought of Mr. Wright: that whole change when she was speaking about his relationship to the family was astounding.