Flames of Revenge

Scotland Yard

March 19th 1872

HENRY MORTIMER

Detective Constable Henry Mortimer ran his fingers through his hair and groaned in frustration. He'd been struggling on this case for nearly a week already, but he was still no closer to finding out the answer. This had to be the most formidable case he'd ever taken on. The more he looked over the evidence and eyewitness accounts he'd gathered over the last few days, the more confused he became. None of it added up.

Mortimer glanced at the clock, quietly ticking away in the corner, and cursed. It was late. He was exhausted. Any sane person would call it a night and retire to bed, but not Mortimer. He was determined to solve the case, no matter what it took.

For a moment, Mortimer wondered if he'd met his match at last. Maybe, after more than twenty years of work, he'd finally come across a case that even he couldn't solve. Mortimer quickly dismissed the thought. He couldn't give up now. For the sake of Charles Chapworth's reputation - and the poor innocent boy who had tragically lost his life in the blaze. Mortimer couldn't just let the culprit walk free. He owed the boy that much at least. It was his job to uphold justice. They all trusted him; he couldn't let them all down. Too much was at stake here.

"Tea, sir?" Mortimer looked up to see his young assistant, Clive Burton, walk into his office with a tea tray.

"Thank you, Clive," Mortimer replied, and took a sip from his cup. Earl Grey. No milk, two sugars. Clive knew him so well.

Mortimer felt the tea warm him up and clear his mind. Feeling fresher and invigorated, Mortimer turned back to the pile of evidence.

"You must be exhausted, sir," said Clive, "Perhaps it's time to call it a day. Some rest will do us both good."

"No." Said Mortimer firmly. Clive looked hurt, and looked like he was about to say something, but stayed decided to keep silent. It was only then that Mortimer realised how unfair it was that he was keeping Clive back against his will. He quickly added, "You go home, Clive. I'm sorry. I should have realised. It's late, and you're tired. I'll see you again in the morning."

Mortimer realised how tired he was. A week of sleepless nights was catching up on him. And his assistant must be just as exhausted as he was. Clive was still so young. This was one of his first cases, and he was so eager to please. Clive still had his whole life in front of him. It wouldn't do to have him falling ill at a time like this. Perhaps it would be best if they waited until morning.

But Clive only smiled and shook his head. "If you think I'd let you stay here by yourself and do all the work, then you are greatly mistaken. I'm your assistant. It's my duty to help you however I can."

Mortimer smiled. He'd anticipated that answer. "Very well then."

He got up from his desk, and started pacing around the room. There had to be something he was missing. Some blindingly obvious piece of evidence that was staring him in the face. He was so close to finding the answer. He just had to look a little bit more.

"We're so close, Clive," said Mortimer, "So close. We just have to last a little longer. I feel like there's a piece missing. And once we find that piece, the whole puzzle will fall into place."

"Perhaps going over the evidence again will help?" suggested Clive.

"Alright then," agreed Mortimer, "On Friday the thirteenth of this month, Chapworth Manor burnt down to the ground. Help was sought immediately, but because of the manor's isolated location, it didn't arrive for three quarters of an hour. By then it was too late, and it was too late for the manor to be saved."