Instead of going upstairs to the bedroom, Logan went to the private library. He knocked quietly on the handle, listening. Then, he took the handle and wrenched it down, swinging open the door and letting the small 'whoosh' of air settle until he moved inside.

The room was dark and he could barely see once he had shut the door. So, he pulled out his phone and set it on to flashlight. Turning on the lights would be too risky of a move. He swung the phone around carefully, letting every shadow be touched by the bright, white beam. Just like the room where the body had been, many bookcases filled the walkways, only allowing slim, unrelenting corridors to stand clear. The library had a rigid atmosphere about it as if it was the freezing wastelands in the North instead of an English country house. But, despite how cold and uncaring it was, the books seemed warm as Logan reached a hand up to brush against them.

They were gentle, worn and well handled. A lot of them were damaged, Logan noted as he opened a picture album from 1912. Tea stains, tears, rips, even a few whole pages were missing. Logan slipped back the picture album when one caught his eye in particular. A new book, one that seemed fresh, undamaged and healthy.

He tugged it from it's' place on the shelf and looked at the names on the cover.

Hubert and Kaylie Blacksky.

Logan furrowed his brow in curiosity and opened the book to the first page and he instantly knew who 'Hubert and Kaylie' were.

Only one picture sat on the front page, in the very centre, beaming up to Logan with slightly grainy colour quality. The picture was taken outside of the house, in front of the fountain. A few unfamiliar horses could be seen trotting around in the background, handled by unfamiliar workers. But, the Blacksky family were the focus of the picture.

Hubert seemed to have some Spanish or Italian heritage, he couldn't tell from the grainy photo. His hair was blonde and his eyes were green. There was a snootiness about him, in his large nostrils and square chin. He wore a tight, navvy, three-piece suit that really didn't suit him and a large cross dangled from his neck. The smile on his face was nearly a snarl and Logan could only imagine that Ali picked up his behaviour from this man.

Kaylie was a bony, witchy woman. Her nose was small, unlike her husband, and she looked like she was sucking lemons, with pasty, pursed lips. Ugly lipstick was on her mouth and her eyes were dull, grey-blue. She glared at the camera, in a pale pink dress that did not compliment her, despite the expensive taste. Her hair was wrangled in a tufty bun and it stretched her skin back across her angular cheeks.

The woman's' hand was resting on a tall, chubby boy. His hair was blonde, but it was approaching the darker scale at the roots. His eyes were a cold blue, far brighter than his mother's', and his fists were large with scratched, bruised knuckles. The boy's' cheeks were bloated and so was his torso, which was flabbily crammed in a sky blue suit. He looked dully up at the camera and Logan knew he was Ali.

Then, almost excluded by the family, was a scrawny boy. The only one who looked nice in his dark, charcoal suit that fitted his slim features. Virgil's' eyes were wide and nervous, big and pitiful, and they almost seemed to be begging Logan for help. The child's' fingers were intertwined and Logan nearly gasped at the dark bruising on his wrist from under his sleeve. That made him look over the grainy photo again and he saw some discolouration on the child's' eye that was furthest from the camera. A bruise. Virgil had been punched in the eye. And, judging by the state of Ali's' fists, it had been his own brother.

Logan inhaled sharply and then he heard a familiar voice beside him. "That's not the book you want to see."

He jolted instantly, only to see Patton there, looking grim. "What do you mean?" He asked curtly.

"You want the cheque book. I know what you're here for."

Logan arched an eyebrow. "And what am I here for?"

Patton simply brushed past him, walking further into the darkness. Logan quickly followed, shining his phone flashlight a little ahead so Patton could see where he was walking. Then, Patton stopped, at the final bookcase, and pulled out a black folder.

A sticky-note sat on the cover, labelled, 'Legal documents of Ali Blacksky,' in crude handwriting.

"Thank you?" Logan frowned as Patton handed him the book. He opened it up, skimming over birth certificates, lawyer contacts and business files until he reached the back.

The Last Will And Testament Of Ali Blacksky

The detective's' eyes widened. "Incredible..."

Patton wrung his hands together. "I'm not supposed to show you this."

"Then why are you?" Logan quickly became on-guard once more.

The butler shrugged. "It's the right thing to do, I guess. See, there, that means he leaves the house and money to Virgil," Patton said, pointing at the page.

Logan nodded slowly, glaring down at the page. There was barely anything else being given away, it all went to Virgil, apart from a few brooches of his mother that went to women in the village.

"So, Virgil gets everything?" Logan double-checked, a sharp smirk on his face.

"But then, read Virgil's' will," Suggested Patton, pulling out a second folder, labelled, 'Legal documents of Virgilious Blacksky'.

Logan looked up at Patton. "Virgil is twenty-four. Why does he have a will?"

"It's sort of a family tradition. To try and ensure the legacy of the house."

The detective nodded, flipping open the book. "He says: If the house is still in my possession by the time of my death, please, leave it, and the money, to the county."

Patton closed his eyes and nodded solemnly. "He never wanted this place, even when we were kids. I think he's just gonna live here and go."

Logan pressed his lips together in a tight line as he looked down at the document. "Interesting," Was all he said in reply.

~'^'~

Everyone else had left the dining room, it was just Virgil, sitting at the head of the table, reading.  Then, Roman swung open the kitchen door with a third bowl of the pudding. He jolted when he saw Virgil still sitting there.

The Master of the house arched an eyebrow. "I see you like Janus's' cooking," He commented coolly.

"A little, yeah," Roman joked, grinning awkwardly.

Virgil smirked in an exasperated way and shook his head softly. "You're the biggest moron I've ever met, I swear."

"Uh, rude!" Gasped Roman.

"I am rude," Virgil retorted cockily. "It's my whole thing."

"I noticed," Grumbled Roman and he walked over to sit on Virgil's' right, spooning the dessert into his mouth greedily and looking at the book in Virgil's' hands. "What's that?" He asked.

Virgil shrugged. "Just a book of mine. One of the 'How To Train Your Dragon' ones."

Roman twitched an eyebrow coyly. "I thought you didn't read those anymore."

"I-I don't!" Flushed the other. "I just wanted to see if any of my copies were damaged before I gave them to you!" Virgil quickly slammed the book shut. "Dumbass!"

"Hey, insults are uncalled for!" Gasped the detective teasingly.

Virgil scoffed, standing up and stretching in that feline way of his. "Whatever, Karen. I'm going to go to my bedroom and wallow in loneliness. You can do whatever you want, as long as you don't break anything."

"Can I break you?" Roman quipped smoothly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Virgil flushed slightly but only rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "You wish you could. But you missed the part where I said I'm going to wallow in loneliness, which is supposed to be done alone. See ya, Karen."

And he left the dining room, subtly pulling out the book to keep reading it. Roman smiled until the door echoed shut behind him, then began to greedily devour his third helping of dessert.