A rapid knock sounds at the old wooden door of 32 Linhope Street, London. You rise from your chair to answer, and are greeted by a young woman in mourning attire.
“May I help you, madam?” You ask.
“I’m looking for Detective Parks.” She says beneath her black veil and bonnet.
“You’ve come to the right place,” You say, glancing at the sign out front that you know reads: Office of Detective O. Parks. Walk-Ins Welcome, Appointments Preferred. “Do you have an appointment?”
“I’m afraid not,” she replies, “You see, this particular… situation came about rather suddenly.” You aren’t entirely shocked to hear this: recently, there has been a string of suspicious disappearances and deaths in the area. You and Mr. Parks have been working tirelessly to solve these cases when they come in, and you both believe that each case is part of one large conspiracy. Possibly even a serial killer.
You step back and allow her to enter the sitting room. As you return to your chair in front of the fireplace and the young woman removes her veil and sits on the settee along the far wall, a door upstairs slams and footsteps begin descending the stairs at a dangerous pace. The young woman looks alarmed, but you know better: it is only Mr. Parks being his usual eccentric self.
Mere seconds later, Mr. Parks is standing in the room with his hand offered to the young woman, who gently stands and accepts.
“You must be Lady Blackthorne,” Mr. Parks says, “Detective Oscar Parks at your service. You must be here because you suspect foul play in your husband’s recent passing, correct?” The young woman you now know to be Lady Blackthorne gasps as she shakes Mr. Parks’s hand.
“Astounding!” She says, shocked. “How did you know?”
You briefly meet Mr. Parks’s eye as you both suppress smirks.
“Well you see, madam, I used my fabled powers of observation and deductive reasoning. I observed that you were wearing the garb of a widow in mourning, and then I deduced that your husband had recently passed away. I also saw in the paper just the other day that a Lord Blackthorne’s funeral was soon to be arranged. Therefore, it only makes logical sense that you are the mourning Lady Blackthorne.”
“Incredible.” Lady Blackthorne gasped again as she sat back down.
“Now,” Mr. Parks strides across the room and sits against his desk, “tell us exactly what happened.”
Lady Blackthorne’s brown eyes begin to water as her bottom lip begins to quiver. She pulls out a lace handkerchief and dabs at her damp cheeks.
“It was my groundskeeper, Mr. Ackerson, who… who found him. I’m not sure what he looked like when he was found… but he was in perfect health. Absolutely perfect. His only issue was he had a slight limp, but he had a cane to assist him.
“The day that they say he died, it was a rainy day. He always enjoyed those days.” Lady Blackthorne pauses to compose herself and continue dabbing at her eyes. “He told me he was going for a stroll, around the gardens, as was his wont on days like that. I began to worry when I didn’t hear from him after a few hours, and then…” Lady Blackthorne quietly begins to sob into her hand. After a few shuddering breaths, she continues, “And then Mr. Ackerson came up to the manorhouse to tell me he’d found Alfred in the garden, and that there was nothing he could do.” Mr. Parks stays quiet while Lady Blackthorne cries a bit longer. Finally, he says, “Just what would you like me to do for you, madam?”
Lady Blackthorne composes herself enough to say, “I’d like for you to find his killer. I know that someone killed him. I don’t know who, and I don’t know how, but I know he didn’t die of some… some sickness. Not my Alfred. The police won’t listen, and everyone I’ve talked to says you’re the best of the best. If anyone can find my husband’s killer, it’s you.”
Mr. Parks glances at me briefly before he says, “I’ll think about your offer, madam.” He stands, and you and Lady Blackthorne follow suit. As he shows the young woman out, he says, “I’ll send a telegram with my answer no later than this evening.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Parks.” Lady Blackthorne says, right before he closes the door. Mr. Parks sighs before asking you, “Well, what do you think? Shall we accept this case?”
“I believe you’ve already made up your mind, Parks.” You say with a slight smile.
“Indeed I have,” he replies as he begins to walk back into the study, “but I always like to know your opinion, even if it won’t affect mine.” As he sits in his deskchair, he looks at you with raised brows and a knowing smile.
“Yes, I think we shall accept the case.” You say with a hint of sarcasm.
“I shall send a telegram soon, then.” Mr. Parks says. “I do believe that this will be yet another lead in our tangled web of a case.” Suddenly, a crash sounds from the rooms upstairs. You and Mr. Parks both jump up, and he runs upstairs with incredible speed. As you start to follow him, you notice from outside the window a figure running away from the door.
