Alderton couldn't remember the last time he had attended a wedding, or if he even had participated in one his whole life. He couldn't remember much of anything except for all that concerned his work as a detective, his various studies in the natural sciences, botany, and so forth. It never bothered him too much: it just meant that his life outside of the profession wasn't quite memorable enough, there was no reason to care about something not worth keeping. It wasn't even a question of not being capable of retaining information, he could recite the entirety of Hamlet word for word, because one day his boredom was acutely aching during a long thunderstorm, and he didn't even like Shakespeare that much.

He wouldn't have been too interested in attending this one celebration either, if not for one specific attendee. His intentions lost strength the moment she pronounced the words: "I'll see you tomorrow morning, then?"

There was no "Actually..." to be said. "Of course, Miss Camden" was the proper response – the sole that managed to pour out of his lips.

Fortunately, he had a good suit for special occasions stored away in the back of the closet, long left unused. For a moment, John almost didn't choose it, he almost grabbed another, one of the first suits he'd bought with his own money, which didn't fit him that well anymore, not to speak of the cheap material, or the quality of the seams. But see, the good suit, it was haunted by a ghost of the past, which his brain did its best to remove, by pretending not to recall the last time he'd worn it, even though the signs were still there - the scratches on the wall and the torn wallpaper, the books with faded words scattered all over the floor and the broken windows.

So be it. He took it for a good wash, as it carried a stench foul enough to be a murder weapon, all the while reminding himself to buy a new one that was in style, eventually. Then, it was time for one last chance to earn the graces of his sweet as a grape assistant, the only one he cared enough about to try to impress.

There he was, at last, in front of the church where the ceremony was to be held. As he peered at the people lingering outside, chatting, laughing, he was reminded how little he enjoyed social gatherings of the sort. What kind of spell had compelled him to accept to participate bearing such eagerness? Had he lost his mind? Was his will buried so deep underground?

While pondering over these questions, along with some excuses he could use to get back home – work was his strongest soldier, no one ever dared to question it – someone got off a carriage not far from where he was standing: it was an older gentleman holding his hand out for a young woman, who came out second. He observed the two, unnoticed, for a few moments, as she began to scan the grounds; he took a couple of steps toward them, making his presence known. Her expression turned from inquisitive to surprised and, though he knew how much of a self-indulgent thought that was, it appeared to him that a slight blush had taken over her cheeks looking at his shaven visage and neat haircut. Being there wasn't too bad, after all.

"Detective Alderton," she greeted him, with a bow as well. "This is my father accompanying me."

"Miss Camden," he reciprocated, with a movement of his head. "Mr Camden, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"It is of a much greater pleasure to meet you, sir. My wife and I have been meaning to thank you in person for your diligence in our son's... situation."

In that moment, John realized an obvious truth he hadn't given much thought to: burying a young son for a parent must be the most devastating thing to do in their lifetime, it hadn't been long since then either. Yet, the man held himself with such composed dignity, that his daughter's own was not surprising in the least. "It is in no way needed, I merely did my job, same as any other employed man. I can't conjure up miracles, I give bad people the bad time they deserve. It's not as impressive as it looks, to be honest, most of the time." His being humble like so was almost too much of an oxymoron, anyone who knew him well wouldn't have been able to keep listening to all the absurdities being spewed.

"He's modest too!" exclaimed Mr Camden, a bittersweet smile on his face. "It's true, you don't bring people back to life, or do magic of the sort, however, knowing that there's one less deplorable man out in the world brought us some much-needed solace. No one else will have to suffer by his hand ever again."

As he was wondering where to take the conversation next, also observing that the man seemed to know not of the perpetrator's intentions with his daughter, a frantic voice calling for a detective caught everyone's attention. Quickly, an agitated groom, followed by a stressed-out man dressed in much simpler garments, ran out of the church, charging at the group of three after seeing them. "Oh, Mr Alderton, Miss Camden, thank God you're both here."

"Take a deep breath, Mr Wright, and only then tell us what's going on," said Alderton, trying to hide his excitement over the need for his professional assistance.

"I would rather not have to ask you to work on such an occasion..."

INTRODUCTION

The situation was presented as follows.

Mr Wright owned a hotel, which he became the director of after the previous one, along in years, decided that the hard-worker was way more capable than any of his sons and daughters, leaving him the estate in the will. The four siblings had been trying to claim the property as theirs, to no avail; they used all kinds of subterfuges, caught in the act multiple times, yet got away with it due to their connections in the police force. Mr Wright had to learn to be vigilant, to the point of hiring undercover guards, acting as his eyes, alerting of any suspicious happening.

Back to the present, one of these guards came to the church bearing urgent news: a woman sits on a windowsill of the third floor, and she refuses to come down. She even locked the door from the inside, threatening whoever tried entering with jumping to her demise. The soon-to-be-wed was positive that the old director's venomous offspring was trying to scare him off with some bad publicity.

"I will never back down, Mr. Alderton, it would be my greatest dishonour and biggest regret. I couldn't look my wife in the eyes, knowing I let those imbeciles win. That's why I'm asking for your help again," he had said at the end of the long-winded recounting, characteristic which ruined the criticality of the moment a bit. "You'll be compensated for the service and the trouble of having to leave the celebration, of course. I'll give you part of the sum before you go, if you choose to accept, as insurance."

Alderton had no reason whatsoever to refuse the offer. He did pretend to ponder over it for a moment, before accepting as if he was doing the man a personal favour by doing his job – it would have been unkind to admit that he preferred it over the wedding, too embarrassing to admit that he loved working that much.

Now, it must have taken some actual consideration for dear Miss Camden, at least regarding the implication of abandoning her father at a celebration of a couple he didn't know personally. The man, knowing his daughter well, reassured her unprompted that it wouldn't be a problem, an action which seemed to clear any doubt.

So, off they went to the hotel, a charming building of four floors, with a lovely backside garden. Its fine architecture was a bit overshadowed by the flock of people gathered under the infamous third-floor window. Although the chatter was insurmountable, going into her room was out of the question.

"Miss Camden, I've two... no, three requests for you. Number one, may I call you by name? It would be much more practical, moreso in dire situations."

At that point, after having worked alongside him for a stretch, she had grown accustomed to the out-of-place questions; that's why she didn't bat an eye when that was the first ask, although she did wonder in which dire situation it would make things more practical. "Sure, you may," she answered.

"Perfect, thank you. You can call me John if you wish to. Now, onto number two. I need you to ask the staff for a chair to bring here."

"Consider it done. Number three?"

"I also need anything that can make a lot of sudden noise." As if sensing the question forming in her head, he soon added, "To silence this uncontrolled mass."

"Ah, of course."

In she went, and out she came after less than two minutes, accompanied by a man carrying a chair, herself carrying a pot in one hand, a large metal utensil in the other. She stepped to the front of the crowd, where the man was waiting, took a deep breath, and then started banging her two objects together with all her might. The combination worked even better than expected, catching everyone's attention, rendering the anxious chatter into a mere hush.

He didn't waste any precious time to hop on the chair and shout: "Good morning, Miss."

"It's Mrs. Mrs Keene."

"Hello, Mrs Keene. My name is John Alderton, I'm a detective. Right here is Alice Camden, my valiant assistant. We would like to have a chat with you, could we come into your room?"

"Oh, a detective... how good are you?"

"The best in the country."

"Bold claim. How about the assistant, is she reliable?"

"Madam, there are two reasons I'm the best. One, you'll hardly find a person smarter than me. Two, I never accompany myself with unreliable minds."

The woman chuckled, in such a forced, theatrical way to be heard from the distance. "You sure know how to sell yourself. Very well, you may come, if you can find a way to open the door on your own, Mr Alderton."

"That won't be a problem."