REFLECTIONS, PART TWO

Now the three of them were running to the first floor. Having received no explanation from the detective for all the hurry, merely understanding one word out of five he was mumbling, Alice was left to get to his same level of comprehension on her own. She grabbed the note out of his hand while it was being held up – he was gesticulating even more than usual. The text revealed the existence of a first clue, which wasn't in Mrs Keene's paper. "Does Mr. McKinley have the first clue? Did he hide it from us?"

"Hide it? Hide it! That refined gentleman had not worn a single piece of clothing since breakfast when we knocked, I doubt he had the mind space to elaborate any kind of action, other than the one he was performing with his companion."

At least she'd gotten a response. A vague one, still nowhere near an explanation, but a response nonetheless. Robert had been busy all morning, which must have meant that he wouldn't have known if he'd gotten a note. "So, we'll have to waste some time looking for it..."

"No, the notes were all slipped under the doors of the respective rooms."

"But we would have seen it if it had been there, wouldn't we?"

"He picked it up before opening up for us. I need smarter observations Alice, don't fail me now of all times."

Working for him was the most fulfilled she'd been in her adult life, yet a complete nightmare at the same time. She hadn't seen him so hot-tempered before, though. "Well, it's hard to make smart observations on the fly, while running, having gotten no explanation whatsoever, Mr. Alderton."

"You should be able to in this job, it entails dire and time essential situations."

"But you're the detective, not I..." cried she, out of breath. "Have I misunderstood my position?"

The detective halted, causing her to almost trip on a step, and to stop ahead of him.

"You're right. I am expecting too much of you. My apologies."

For some reason she couldn't comprehend yet, her heart sank. Alice's instinct told her to correct the mistake; breathless as she was, that proved not possible. Alderton had moved on before the assistant could fully compute what had happened.

"I doubt the perpetrator expected us to come here, he might have accounted for a couple of officers at most, which puts us at an advantage. We're... I'm faster than the group he targeted, plus I have competent help. I'll catch up, unless he speeds things up. Robby, you're on time!" he called out, upon reaching the first floor.

"I told you..."

"Yes, whatever. Give me the note in your pocket, please."

"How did you..."

"It's urgent, Rob! Come on!"

The man sighed, and got the desired object out of its predicted place. John snatched it out of his hand.

"I am no monster, least of all unreasonably cruel. I want to give you a chance, a first step toward redemption. If you all collaborate once more, you can make it right. This note contains the first of three clues, and three warnings. After the last one, you'll get your final judgement.

Heaven is Appalled; Can we bear the Knowledge of its Neverending discontent, or will we End up Yielding to the weight of our sins?

When I die, I hope God will be kinder to me than his creations ever were.
A Familiar Face"

"This is useless now, having read the second clue... In any case, the girl is in Victoria Park."

"How did you..." was about to ask Mr Mckinley again.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Bob? It doesn't matter!"

"But..."

"No buts. Now, the actual compelling question is, who goes to get little Olive? I can't go, because I have to catch dear Familiar Face over here..."

"I can go go," ventured Miss Camden, with a voice a bit too low in tone to be heard by a man thinking aloud.

"I don't trust anyone of your dumb group to go, especially on your own, and I need you here to find out some things, in any case. Maybe..."

"Detective John Alderton," she proclaimed, gathering up all the strength of character she could still find in herself despite the conditions. To give the wrong impression twice was too much, a third time would have been unacceptable. The man was now looking at her. "I'll go. I know the case, and I know the area well too."

They engaged in an intense, though short lived, game of gazes, a familiar occurrence. She would wonder, every time, if it gave him any sort of useful information.

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as you are that the man is here waiting to be caught by you."

He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Give me your notebook." When she complied, he wrote something down on the last page. "Go to this address, ask for him. You can't go alone. In addition to living nearby, he is trustworthy. If you tell the situation in a direct manner like you know to do, he'll understand the urgency. Don't be too gentle, and don't forget to tell him how much I hate to have to contact him, that'll help."

"Is that last step necessary?"

"Very."

The woman nodded, turned around, started walking so fast she was almost running again, stopped on a whim to turn again. "How much is it? That you hate to have to contact him, I mean."

"I don' think it is possible to overstate how much. He'll know."

She repeated the routine, sprinting toward the door.

John looked at her go until she disappeared outside, an unknowing smile growing on his face.

"Weren't we in a hurry?"

"Oh, hush, Bobby. Now, let's go to Mrs Keene's, before I definitively lose my patience."

QUESTIONING EVERYONE

"Now that we're all here together, doing a sweet quasi-reunion, it is time for you to stop speaking in riddles and tell me the whole story in detail. Unless, of course, you want your lives to be ruined even more than you already managed to do. In that case, I'll be glad to step aside."

George, who had been following in silence, so dejected that he didn't even try to get away, at last was sort of invigorated enough to ask, "I though... you already knew... didn't you already know?"

"What I knew doesn't matter, what matters is..."

"Wait a minute... George, you told them? About... the thing?" Interrupted Mr. McKinley.

"Well, technically, it was Mary for the most part... and besides, I thought you had talked first... hadn't you?"

"Me? Why would I? That's ridiculous."

"Is it, though?" Interjected Mrs Keene. "You are the worst at keeping secrets."

"That's nonsense. It's you ladies who get all chatty with your friends after a glass of Port."

"Oh, please! There is not one single person in our broad circles who doesn't know you warm the beds of multiple women at all times, and you don't even get invited to any kind of gathering, since you have spat on the honour of too many families. That's how bad you are at keeping secrets."

"I'm sorry, since when do you defend the two weasels?"

"Weasels? Is that how you refer to us when you talk amongst yourselves?"

"I wasn't defending them, I am simply reminding you that you are not one bit better, professor muttonhead."

The detective would have been delighted to continue listening to the joy of true friendship through the lips of the kindest, purest fellows he'd ever met, if only the circumstances hadn't been the ones they found themselves in. "Hey, can we..." But no one was listening to him, causing him to take two of the pillows from the nearby bed, and use them to whack the two men. "Hush. Now. We don't have time to waste for you to act like children. Can we focus on the fact that very soon all of you may be in grave danger, possibly?"

"What do you mean by that?" Asked Mrs Keene.

"Yes, I'd like to know too, I have not understood a thing since you arrived on the ground floor."

John sighed. "Someone related to the man that one of you pushed off a window is perpetrating revenge on all of you. He, or she, knew that you are useless, unable to communicate or form a coherent line of action even when your lives depend on it, therefore, to mock you, he sent those pieces of paper pretending to want to let you achieve one good deed in your miserable existences, in the end proving more and more how terrible you are. This good deed, retrieving the poor child, is being done by my assistant, instead of anyone responsible for this." The fact that he and Alice were being paid for the job was beyond the point.

"Responsible? Now..."

"Yes, Robbie, responsible. You did this. Mr. Keen pushed the man, and the rest of you covered the whole story up, because each benefitted in some way. Mary and George would get the child, Grace could conceal the deal by marrying her now husband. I struggle to think of anything Robert would care enough about to agree to carry such a succulent secret, so I'll guess it must be money, maybe even periodical. Which makes the most sense, considering that I find it preposterous to believe any woman would want to marry such a boring, vile creature for any reason other than financial security. The one real doubt I have is... Well... Why is Mr. Keene not here?"

"What does that..." tried the missus.

"It has everything to do with this. He was the one who pushed that man. He arranged all that was needed to keep you silent."

"Ah! I was waiting for you to make a mistake," said Robert, in a triumphant tone. "It was Grace who arranged, that man is not smart enough."

"The pot is calling the kettle black," commented George under his breath.

Bunch of simple fools made the job a bit too easy: every single piece of information he knew had been voluntarily served to him. "That doesn't make sense to me, Robbie. Were they involved in a romantic entanglement of some sort?"

"They were in love with each other, not entangled yet though."

"No no, he was in love with her, she wouldn't look at him twice, that's the truth, we all knew it."

"I see how it is. Since Grace was embarrassed of the affair, she asked the man who was entranced by her to kill the object of perdition as a way to restore the lost honour, so that she wouldn't have to do it herself, and he would take the blame. Then, as protection, she promised you all that you could possibly want, including her marrying Mr. Keene, which was useful to her to conceal her sin. Not only there was no snake to seduce her into biting the apple, making the action her own choice, but also, she took it upon herself to get the innocent tree uprooted. Its simple mistake was to have had the misfortune of being tasted by her. Is that right? Am I missing some detail?" The room became dead silent. "How tragic."