QUESTIONING MISS WILKES

A simple staircase can appear never-ending when in need of getting a half-unconscious woman on top of it. Step by step, indulging in frequent breaks, the two women managed to get Mrs Howell to her room. Their goal reached, they took a minute to catch their breath.

"Thank you for helping me, Miss," the maid said, once able to speak again.

"I'm glad to have been of aid. I imagine it's the first time she's in need of this type of assistance, you couldn't have been prepared for it."

She nodded. "It's not every day that she witnesses a murder, fortunately. It feels wrong to say..." As her voice drifted away, she looked at her mistress.

"You can speak freely here. I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're scared of."

Wilkes turned back to Alice. "I'm just glad I didn't see it too, miss. I heard the missus scream, that's it. That was terrible enough. I would have passed out, for sure."

That was the perfect moment to get anything useful the woman might know: her guard was down, she felt at ease. Alderton had said, in those types of situations, asking wasn't even needed, implying was easier, and had a higher rate of success. "I empathize with your struggle. And on top of that, you have four strangers in your house in the middle of the night. Such a stressful time it must be."

"Four?" the maid asked, showing genuine confusion. "It's three, miss, Mr Fletcher-" As soon as she realized her mistake, she stopped herself by slapping her own face.

QUESTIONING MISS HOWELL

There was no need to wait for Miss Camden to come back down, he could still do his job well on his own; at least, that's what he thought while going to call Miss Howell in. Upon seeing the detective, she started yelling at his face about her mother, and how he was taking advantage of the situation for God knows what insidious reason. Right then he remembered why he had been enjoying work so much more – it wasn't his doing, not much had changed in dealing with the public either.

Notwithstanding the warm greeting, Alderton exercised his patience by ushering her in, whilst reassuring her that Mrs Howell was being taken care of. He wondered if that strong reaction was natural apprehension for a parent in a delicate state of mind, or if it was a symptom to some other type of fear, like that of being discovered or even, why not, a bit of both.

"I don't have much to say. As I have repeated a million times over, I was in another room reading a book when it happened. I heard my mother scream, I ran to her standing in front of the window. I was able to see a shadow run away, that's it. I did not see the man's face."

"Yet you know it was a man."

The woman grumbled dramatically. "Yes, well, the shadow was tall and large, and two plus two equals four."

"Tall and large women exist, as rare as they may be in your circle of acquaintance, Miss Howell."

"This one had a beard," remarked she in an annoyed tone. "So I think we can rule the woman theory out, oh champion of the fair sex."

Alderton smiled, hidden behind the thick moustache. How easy it was to get information out of someone who though they had the upper hand. "You said you didn't see the person's face."

"I didn't, not quite at least. I caught a glimpse thanks to the street light. I couldn't tell you what he looked like, however, I am sure I saw a beard, full and bushy like yours. Believe me, or don't, I could not care less."

"I believe you, don't worry."

"I wasn't worrying," she clarified, resting her chin on one hand, the same arm leaning on the back of the sofa.

Miss Camden's intuition was accurate to a scary level at times; in other circumstances he might have believed in a divination talent. Fortunately, he hadn't been drinking, and had never been superstitious in the slightest.

Now, to the second most important question: "Do you know the two men standing outside?"

Miss Howell side-eyed him. "Not at all."

"So the fact that they were all, including the victim who, in your own words, you also did not know, in front of your house around the same time means nothing?"

"It is mere coincidence."

"But it isn't mere coincidence, is it Miss?" said a familiar voice coming from the stairs. Speak, or think, of the devil!

"I don't know what-"

"Please, don't make up excuses."

"I'm not! And who even told you that I know those men?"

"That's irrelevant. What is relevant is that you tried to lie to us which, as you can see, did not work in your favour at all. There is no point in doing it, either. Whatever you might think you can hide we will find out, if it concerns this case, it's a matter of time. How about you tell us of your meetings with Mr Fletcher, for starters?"

Miss Howell went red in the face, from anger, embarrassment, both at the same time; at last she threw her head on her lap, covering it with her arms, and started pulling on her hair.

The other woman did not lose her composure, simply moving toward her chair, sitting on it, beside Mr Alderton, who whispered to her: "Spectacular entrance. How long were you waiting over there, eavesdropping?"

She glanced at him, a guilty grin hidden behind the professional countenance. "About a minute or so," she whispered back. "I've always wanted to try this."

The detective couldn't help but smile once more, until he remembered the still desperate young woman sitting opposite to him. As he pondered how to calm her down enough to get the truth, Miss Camden went over to her, to pat and stroke her back. "There, there. I didn't mean to be so harsh, I apologize. Just know, everything you will say from now on will stay within these walls, it will not find new ears, and you will get these strangers out of your house on a whim. It's a promise," she said, in a much sweeter tone.

"No, don't apologize. I'm being silly, hiding the truth from people who are only trying to do their jobs, because I am embarrassed. I won't hold back... if you promise that you'll catch whoever did this."

"Of course we will," responded the detective. "We're the best in the country, you couldn't be in better hands.".

Miss Howell looked up to both for a moment, and then, at last, revealed: "The man lying dead outside of that door is my father."

CAMDEN'S NOTES

-Arthur Fletcher: retired policeman, witness to the murder, couldn't identify the culprit. Why was he around? What is his deeper connection to the case? Claims not to know the victim. 
Knows Mrs and Miss Howell well, was following Mr Gilbert that night, though Howell had asked him to stop.

-Matilda Howell: lives in the nearby house with her mother and a servant. Heard Mrs Howell scream, didn't witness directly, saw the aftermath. Claims not to know the victim.
The victim is her estranged father, who had abandoned her as a baby, who Fletcher tracked down for her to have a chance to reconcile. After getting rejected she intended to have nothing to do with him, so she doesn't know why he was at her house.

-Ada Howell: main witness, most probably saw the murder getting committed. Seemingly can't speak from shock. Does she know the victim?
Knew Miss Howell's mother, when the woman died she took care of the girl as if she was her own child.

-August Ives: passer-by who stayed to help, didn't witness the act, arrived minutes later. Came from the blocked road.

-Martha Joyce: neighbour, witnessed from afar, came down immediately after.

-Amelia Wilkes: the maid, was finishing to clean the kitchen, didn't witness, heard Mrs Howell scream.
Knew Mr Fletcher well, was asked to pretend not to know him by Miss Howell.

-Nicholas Gilbert: the victim, was standing right in front of the door when killed. What's his connection to the occupants of this house? 
Miss Howell's birth father, when approached by her he had freaked out and seemed not to want anything to do with the young woman. Why did he come to her house?

REFLECTIONS

Alderton was walking up and down the room, while Camden sat composed in her chair, as per usual.

"Well, now we know why Arthur was here."

"And it makes him appear even more suspicious."

"Though I can't deny it does, if he was doing all this to help Miss Howell it means he cares for her, and only means to keep her safe, therefore..." He stopped, looked at his assistant, almost spoke, before shaking his head, returning to his jog. "No, we can't know for sure. We do know that Arthur loved Miss Howell's birth mother, who in turn loved Mr Gilbert, too young to know responsibility when the woman got pregnant. Not only that, but when she tried to reach out he right out pushed her away. Arthur cares about the young lady, the one remaining memory of his tragic love. He is very resentful toward this Gilbert for stomping on it over and over again, and how to blame him? So he follows him, waits for the perfect occasion. At this point it doesn't matter if the man feels bad, if he wants mend things with his daughter.... But why would old Arty call for me, if that's the case?"

"Maybe he was hoping that since you used to know each other, you would help him out?"

"I definitely would, if I though he was right in what he did, he knows it. He always protested this personal policy of mine..." Silence fell in the drawing room for, except for the sound of heavy steps covering the whole surface. She waited. "Also, we found a connection with pretty much all people involved, except for the man who stopped to help. He seems to have no place in this story."

"What if he's from the neighbourhood, and he was talking a walk?"

"Could be, could be... Or couldn't be. You see, there is a very important particular that led me to the solution almost right away, ever since then I have been making sure I have all the evidence before I make an official move. That particular is that our aggressor ran to the wrong side of the road."

The lines on her face deepened in utter confusion. "What... What does that..."

"It has everything to do with it, Miss Camden, everything I say! I'm sure you'll get it once we talk to..."

The door opened with unexpected force, interrupting the conversation. Inside came an angry Mrs Joyce stomping at every step: "Mr Detective, I know you're working, but quite frankly, I think it is inhuman to keep me, someone who has nothing to do with this situation, up and waiting in the middle of the night."

"... the neighbour," he said, incapable of not finishing his sentence. "Perfect entrance, were you eavesdropping too?"

"What? No!"

"Nevermind, please, come sit, you entered at the right time, we were about to come call you."

"Oh, uhm... great. I hope this will be quick."