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“Scotland Yard. Inspector Alfendi Layton spea– oh fuck off.”
Hilda leaned over the desk. “What is it?”
Alfendi threw the receiver back onto the hook. “Someone keeps calling and then immediately hanging up! I’m getting fucking sick of it.” He shook his head. “If I have to hear that dial tone one more goddamn time–”
“It’s probably just the weather,” Hilda suggested, a flash of lightning brightened the room for a moment. “Lord knows what this wind is doing to the phone lines.”
Justin kicked the bottom of Al’s chair, sending him spinning across the floor. “Here’s an idea: stop answering the phone. Problem solved!”
“Unfortunately, Justin,” Hilda crossed her arms. “The telephone is how most of our clients get in contact with us. Unless you have some new, previously unheard-of technology for us to use?”
He held up a small machine. “We’ve got our pagers, don’t we? Why can’t we just use those?”
“Truly brilliant, Justin,” Alfendi mocked, scooting his chair back to the desk. “Why don’t we just give every London citizen a police-issued pager? Surely that wouldn’t cause any issues.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay, I get it, I get it.” He checked his watch and stood up. “Alright, I’m headin’ out for the night.” His eyes glimmered mischievously. “Justin Lawson has got a date.”
“Oh?” Alfendi smirked, leaning back. “Gonna take your right hand to the movies?”
Justin smacked him upside the head. Alfendi kicked him back.
“Enough, you two,” Hilda held up a hand, stopping them from beating the shit out of each other– again. “Justin, have fun.” She eyed the window as the rain sheeted against it. “Stay safe, and stay dry.”
“In more ways than one,” Alfendi teased.
Justin straightened his tie. “Thank you, Hilda.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “And Layton, don’t make me regret not kicking your arse into next week.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lawson .” Alfendi held up a finger as Justin exited the small office.
Hilda perched herself on the edge of Alfendi’s desk. “So. Penny for your thoughts: who do you think this mystery caller is? Assuming, of course, that they are purposefully hanging up on you.”
“If I had to wager a guess,” he cupped his chin in his hand. “It wouldn’t surprise me if it was the Jigsaw Killer himself.”
“Or herself.”
Alfendi raised an eyebrow. “Is that a confession, Miss Pertinax?”
Hilda leaned towards him, eyes sparkling. “Oh my, inspector,” she drawled, putting on an accent. “A little lady like me? A serial murderer?”
“Well, why not? The police wouldn’t dare suspect one of their own, and certainly not one of the lead investigators on the case,” he winked, gazing up at her. “And, if any of the police started to get too close…”
The phone rang.
Alfendi grumbled, reaching for the receiver again. “I swear to god… hello!?”
“Inspector Alfendi Layton. How do you do?”
“Who are you?” Alfendi snarled. “And what do you want?” He glanced up at Hilda. “I’m in the middle of something, so make it snappy.”
The man on the line chuckled. “Take a guess, Inspector. From what I’ve seen, you’re a very clever man. Not unlike your father.”
“Don’t—” he started, before biting his tongue. He covered the mouthpiece of the receiver with his hand. “Hilda,” he hissed. “It’s him. Start working on getting this call traced. I’ll keep him on the line for as long as I can.”
Hilda nodded, pulling her pager out of her pocket. “I’ll page Tracy and get her on it.”
“Inspector, have you heard this one before? A judge tells a condemned prisoner that he will be hanged at noon on one weekday–”
“The unexpected hanging paradox,” Alfendi snapped. “Don’t patronize me, of course I’ve heard it before.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. But do you know the answer?”
“Does it matter?” Alfendi scoffed. “Quit talking in riddles and get to the point.”
He could practically hear the other man smirking over the phone. “Does the son of the famed puzzle fanatic Hershel Layton not enjoy them? How… disappointing. Not to mention, these… riddles, as you put it, are in your favour, Inspector.”
“Again: Get. To. The. Point.”
“I’m not an idiot, Inspector Layton. You would’ve already caught me if I was. I know your little girlfriend has contacted another member of the force to track this call.”
Alfendi leaned forward. “So, what? You want us to catch you, is that it?” He couldn’t stop himself. “I’ll kill you myself for everything you’ve done.”
The man laughed harshly. “Is that how the police work these days? Kill, and make peace? Well, we’re the same in that regard, Inspector.”
“Wha–” His eyes narrowed. Of course. “Makepeace.”
The man’s answer came through garbled–Alfendi could barely make it out. “For… castle… night…” The line went dead. Alfendi swore.
Thunder boomed outside.
Hilda extended a hand. “Give it. I have an idea.”
Alfendi obliged, handing her the receiver and pushing the base of the phone towards her. He watched as she placed the receiver back on the hook, then picked it back up. She paused, listening.
He raised an eyebrow. “What are you–?”
She raised a finger to her lips, then pressed a few buttons. A moment passed, and she slammed the receiver down. “Dammit,” she swore. “The phone lines are down.” Of course they were. Hilda pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s hope Tracy had enough time to at least estimate a location.”
Alfendi tinkered with the small machine. Apparently, it was a crime scene reconstruction device, but no one had bothered to inform him of how it worked. First day back at work, and they’d given him a desk job. “Only temporary,” the Commissioner had promised. “Just until you’re fully healed.”
He was drawn out of his thoughts when the phone rang. He set the reconstruction device down and reached for the phone. “New Scotland Yard’s Serious Crime Division Classified Investigation Agency Headquarters. Inspector Alfendi Layton speaking. How may I be of assistance?” Alfendi tucked his screwdriver into his pocket.
“Goodness. That’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?”
He smiled at the sound of Hilda’s voice. “Hilda. Where have you been? I’ve missed seeing you.” He could sense her trepidation over the phone. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Look, Al,” she said finally. “I can’t keep doing this.”
Alfendi tilted his head, leaning back in his chair. “What do you mean?”
“This, I suppose. Expecting you to be back to… to normal. You’re not you, Al.”
Alfendi tucked his free hand into his pocket. What did she mean by that? “What are you talking about? Of course I am. I’m your Al. Alfendi Layton.”
“No, you’re not,” she huffed. “The Commissioner's seen fit to keep me in the dark over the finer details of what happened at Forbodium, but I know what I saw. You–” her voice caught in her throat. “This whole time, I’ve been defending you, just for you to… I’m trying to apply logic to this whole situation, and–”
“Hilda,” he said softly. “I shot him. You can’t keep denying that I shot Keelan Mak–”
“Alfendi Layton, you hold your tongue,” Hilda snapped. “The Al I know… the Al I knew wouldn’t have…” She sighed. “Y’know what, Al? Clearly, I’m not going to get through to you. I’m done. We’re done.”
She’d stunned him into silence. He fumbled for his words. “What are you…?”
“Don’t make me say it, Al.”
“Hilda, can we talk about this, please? I’m struggling to see where you’re–”
“Stop it. Just… stop.” She cut him off. “I don’t have time for this. You’re lucky I even decided to ring you, but I didn’t want to leave you hanging.” Hilda took a deep breath. “I’m transferring out of London. The train leaves in… about ten minutes, give or take.”
“...what? Why?”
“I don’t know how much you’ve been told since you woke up, but… You, me, Justin– the Commissioner's transferred all of us following what transpired at Forbodium. I’m being sent to work on some cases for Interpol.”
Alfendi whistled. “Interpol, huh? That’s…” He glanced around the small office. Papers already cluttered nearly every surface. “A league above where he’s placed me.”
Hilda laughed softly. “I heard. What did you say when you picked up the phone? Scotland Yard’s–”
“ New Scotland Yard’s Serious Crime Division Classified Investigation Agency Headquarters,” he chuckled. “It’s… well, I’ll have to come up with something better. A name that just rolls off the tongue. And I don’t think N.S.Y.S.C.D.C.I.A.H. does it for me.”
A whistle blasted through the phone. Alfendi had to pull the receiver away from his ear.
“Oh goodness, is that the time already? Look, Al,” Hilda added. “I wish we could’ve ended on better terms, and maybe someday we can try again but…”
Alfendi nodded solemnly. “I wish I knew where this was coming from, but I get it. Or, I’m trying to. I hope we can still be friends?” No answer. He sighed. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“You too. And… for your new ‘headquarters’? I think the ‘Mystery Room’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”
“Myst’ry Room, this is Lucy,” Lucy twirled the phone cord around her fingers. A grin spread across her face. “Kat! ‘Ow do?’”
Alfendi rolled his eyes. “Lucy,” he grumbled. “That phone is for official business. Not for you to prattle on with my sister.”
Lucy held a hand up in defence. “Ee, don’ get potty wiv me, Prof.” She leaned her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her free hand. “Oh, ‘e says hi.”
“I do not,” Alfendi muttered under his breath.
She shushed him, before turning back to her phone conversation. “Ee, tha’ sounds excitin’, Kat. Spare me no details.” She gasped dramatically, clearly to hold Alfendi’s attention. “Ratman? Give over!”
At this rate, the two girls would likely chat for hours, and they simply did not have the time for that today. Alfendi had to do something, and fast. He leaned down, feeling against the wall. Aha! With a quick yank, he pulled the cord out of the wall.
“Ey-up? Kat?” Lucy held the receiver out in front of her, inspecting it.
“Line gone dead?” Alfendi smirked, flicking his wrist to spin the end of the cord around.
“‘Ow did–” Lucy crossed her arms in abject disappointment. “Prof…”
He shrugged, still holding the loose cord. “I told you, didn’t I? That phone’s for official business. Now, I hope, you’ve learned your lesson.”
Lucy pouted. “Yer just jealous I git on wiv her better.”
Alfendi snorted. “I am not jealous .”
“‘Course not.” She stuck out her tongue.
He leaned forward in his chair. “I would, however, love to know why she refused to call until you started working here, Lucy. As a matter of fact, I don’t believe she knew the number for this office until a few months ago. Around the same time you were appointed as my assistant.” He dropped the cord, clasping his hands together. “I’ve barely seen her over the past four years, and yet, the second you show up, Katri comes crawling out of the woodworks.” He raised his eyebrows. “So, an explanation, if you would.”
Lucy’s cheeks flushed. She tilted her hat down to cover her eyes. “Well…”
“And please,” his eyes flashed mischievously. “Spare me no details.”
Lucy picked up the phone. “Scotland Yard, Mys–Kat?”
Alfendi glanced up from his typewriter.
“Woah, slow down!” Lucy fumbled for the speaker button. “I’m puttin’ ye on speaker.”
On the other end of the call, Katrielle was choking out laughs, which were broken up by what sounded suspiciously like sobs. “He–we–I–” she managed to get out between quick inhales.
Alfendi pushed his typewriter aside and leaned over his desk towards the phone. “Katri, it’s Alfendi. What’s going on? Take a deep breath for me, okay?”
The line garbled, and Lucy double-checked the phone was still plugged in. The connection had become wobbly after all the times Alfendi had yanked it out of the wall, and the last thing they needed was for the line to drop.
“Mr–sorry, Inspector Layton? Miss Baker?” a male voice took over. “Uh, this is Ernest. Ernest Greeves. I’m, uh, I’m Miss Layton’s assistant. I, um, well–”
Alfendi grabbed the base of the phone, dragging it across the desk. “Spit it out! What’s going on? Where’s Katri?”
“Um,” Ernest hesitated again. “It’s probably best for you two to–”
“IT’S DAD,” Katrielle yelled over the phone, causing both Lucy and Alfendi to flinch back. “Alfendi! Alfendi, we found them! Dad, and and and Uncle Luke!”
“...what?”
“It’s a really, really, really long story, and I promise I’ll explain, but we’re in Southampton. Please don’t be mad!” she added quickly. “I don’t know which hospital we’re taking them to yet, but I’ll make Chief Inspector Britannias page you once we know!”
Alfendi shook his head. “Let me talk to Britannias.”
“He’s a little busy at the moment– they’re still rounding up all the priests and–”
Alfendi slammed his hands on the desk. Lucy winced. “This isn't funny, Katrielle. It’s been eleven years. Eleven fucking years. Maybe if you’d pulled this stunt five years ago, I’d have believed you, but not now. Give. It. Up .”
“M-Mr Layton–” Ernest tried to get a word in, but Alfendi wouldn’t let him.
“And you made your little assistant go along with this farce? Really, Katrielle, I thought you of all people would know better than to–”
“Prof,” Lucy had crossed her arms. “I don’ think Kat’s lying.”
Alfendi huffed and leaned back in his chair. “Is that so, Lucy? Give your reasoning.”
“Firs’ of all, t’ area code on t’ call ID starts with 703. She’s definitely calling from Southampton.” She flicked the brim of her hat. “Second of all, wha’ kinda prankster starts a call laughin’ already?” A smile played at the corner of her lips. “Plus, Kat’s t’ best liar I’ve ever met. Not even ye could tell if she was lyin’.”
“She’s my little sister, Lucy,” Alfendi retorted. “I know all her tricks.” Lucy rolled her eyes and tilted her head in response. He sighed, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Fine. Lucy, grab your coat. I guess we’re heading to Southampton.”
Lucy pumped her fists in the air, turning back to the phone. “We’ll be there in two shakes, Kat! Keep us posted, ‘kay?” She placed the receiver back on the hook.
He pulled out his wallet and tossed it to her. “Go get us the earliest tickets you can get, don’t worry about the price. I’ll meet you at the train station. I just need to make a quick call first.”
Lucy nodded, tipping her hat to him. “Got it, Prof.” She took off running, not bothering to shut the door behind her.
He picked up the receiver again. Now, if he could just remember Flora's number…
It’d been a quiet day in the Mystery Room so far. Lucy flipped through the paperwork Florence had faxed over - something about a break-in? But she was mostly skimming.
The phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Lucy hopped out of her chair. “I’ve gotta new way t’ answer the phone, Prof.” She cleared her throat dramatically and plucked the phone off the cradle. “Scotland Yard, Myst’ry Room. This is Lucy Baker. Who’s been murdered?”
Alfendi sighed, covering his face with his hands. He prayed it wasn’t anyone too important on the line.
“Ah, um,” the man on the phone cleared his throat. “Hello, Miss Baker. Would Alfendi Layton happen to be in?”
“The Prof? Er…” Lucy twirled the cord around her fingers. She glanced back at her boss.
He lowered his hands. “Who is it?” he whispered. “Put it on speaker.”
Lucy pressed a button and set the receiver on the desk. “Who is this?”
“Oh, terribly sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Do forgive me,” said the man. “I’m his father, Professor Hershel Layton.”
Alfendi scrambled out of his chair, snatching the receiver away and quickly pressing the speaker button again, turning it off. “Dad,” he hissed, holding the phone tight to his ear to prevent Lucy from eavesdropping. He spun his chair around so she wouldn’t see how red his face had gotten. “I told you not to bother me while I’m at work. How did you even get this number?”
His father chuckled. “I have my ways. Also, Katrielle wanted me to inquire what you wanted for dinner this evening…” he paused. “Prof?”
Alfendi groaned. He’d never hear the end of it now.
“Miss Baker is also invited,” his father continued. “I’d be delighted to meet her, officially, that is. Both you and Katrielle speak quite highly of her and–”
“Okaydadgottagetbacktoworkbye,” Alfendi interrupted and shoved the phone back on the hook. “You,” he pointed an accusatory finger at Lucy, “are never answering the phone again.”