Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
W e were back at Tranquility Terrace the next morning. Ray sat across from Mrs. Hargrove, leaning forward like he was about to break the biggest case of his career. Mrs. Hargrove, on the other hand, was perched on the edge of her seat, looking more nervous than I’d ever seen her. She was wringing her hands together, her eyes wide behind those oversized glasses.
“I think I know who’s behind the thefts,” Ray said, his voice low, dramatic.
Mrs. Hargrove’s eyes widened even further. “You do?” she gasped. “Oh my, Mr. Leonard! Who is it?”
Ray sat back, looking confident, like he had all the answers in the world. “It’s Benedict.”
“Benedict?” Mrs. Hargrove almost squeaked. “The magician? But why?”
Ray cleared his throat. “Think about it. He’s a magician—he knows how to make things disappear. And we know he’s got lock-picking skills. I found out last night that he used to do an escape act. You know, the kind where they’re chained up and locked in a box, and they get out by picking the locks.”
Mrs. Hargrove was still staring at Ray, her mouth hanging open in shock. “Oh dear... I never would’ve suspected Benedict. He’s always been such a gentleman.”
Ray nodded like he had it all figured out. “That’s how these things usually go. It’s always the person you least expect.”
Mrs. Hargrove stood up from her desk, looking ready to faint at any moment. “We should talk to him right away. If he’s really the one behind the thefts...”
Again, Ray nodded, standing up too. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
We left her office and made our way to the common room, where I could already hear the faint murmur of residents chatting and clinking teacups. Sure enough, Benedict was there, sitting in one of the armchairs by the window. He was chatting with Mr. Billings and Martha, who were laughing about something I didn’t care to investigate.
Ray walked in with all the swagger of a detective in a crime novel, and I followed close behind, already sensing this situation was about to get interesting.
“Benedict,” Ray said, striding up to him with purpose. “We need to talk.”
Benedict, always the showman, looked up from his conversation, raising an eyebrow. “Mr. Leonard! What a surprise. What can I do for you?”
Ray stood tall, arms crossed. “It’s about the thefts.”
Benedict’s expression faltered slightly, but he kept his cool, smiling politely. “Did you figure out who the thief is?”
Ray smirked. “We’re close to solving the case. Very close.”
I hopped up onto a nearby table, watching the exchange with interest. Oh boy. Here we go.
Benedict looked genuinely confused, his eyebrows drawing together. “Really? Well, I’m sure we’re all eager to hear the resolution.”
Ray didn’t waste a second. “Benedict, where were you the night Sally’s bracelet went missing?”
Benedict blinked then chuckled lightly. “I was... at dinner. With everyone else. You were there, too, if I recall correctly.”
Ray wasn’t backing down. “Right. But you also know about the secret door in the dining room, don’t you?”
Benedict’s smile wavered. “Secret door? Oh, you mean the old servants’ passage? Yes, I use it sometimes during my shows. Adds a bit of flair, you see.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Flair? Or access to the residents’ rooms?”
Benedict’s smile finally disappeared, replaced by another look of genuine confusion. “I beg your pardon? Are you suggesting I’ve been sneaking into people’s rooms?”
“Yes,” Ray said, crossing his arms triumphantly. “I think you’ve been using your magician skills to break into the rooms and steal from the residents. You know lock-picking, don’t you, Benedict? You use it in your escape acts.”
Benedict looked increasingly flustered. “Well, yes, I know how to pick locks. It’s part of my act. But I certainly haven’t?—”
Something in Benedict’s open bag of tricks had caught my eye—a small set of tools that looked suspiciously like... lock picks.
Ray , I nudged telepathically, trying to get his attention. Look in his bag.
Ray was too caught up in his interrogation, so I tried again, louder this time. RAY! Look in the bag!
Suddenly, Ray’s eyes flicked toward Martha, who was knitting a sweater, needles clacking together and a bag filled with yarn on the floor next to her. His face lit up like a detective who had just found the smoking gun.
No. No, not that one. The magician’s bag!
But Ray was already proceeding toward Martha. He crouched down and peeked inside the knitting bag, where a tangle of yarn and knitting needles sat harmlessly.
Martha’s needles stopped, and she watched Ray, her brow creasing in confusion. “Mr. Leonard? What on earth are you doing?”
Not that bag! I telepathed as hard as I could.
Ray straightened up quickly, laughing awkwardly. “Uh, just… admiring your knitting. Very impressive.”
Benedict’s bag , I meowed and flicked my tail toward it for emphasis.
Ray, still oblivious, glanced around again and spotted the trash bin by the door. “Maybe…?” he muttered to himself as he walked over and peeked inside.
Everyone watched in disbelief as Ray rummaged through the trash bag. He pulled out an old magazine and a crumpled tissue before shaking his head.
Oh, this is painful. You’re really doing this. Stop looking for clues in the garbage, Ray. It’s not there. Move your eyes three feet to the left!
I hopped up on the nearby chair, trying to get Ray to refocus. I shot another telepathic push. The bag, Ray. Benedict’s bag!
Ray looked at me, and his gaze drifted toward a random tote bag on the floor next to one of the residents. “Hmm…”
Not the tote bag! For the love of catnip, it’s the magician’s bag! THE MAGICIAN’S BAG!
Finally—finally—Ray’s eyes flicked back to Benedict’s prop bag. He knelt and peeked inside. His brows shot up when he caught sight of the lock-picking tools nestled among the scarves and fake coins.
I let out a satisfied purr. There you go, Sherlock. Now, we’re getting somewhere.
“Aha!” Ray exclaimed, bending down and digging into the bag. He pulled out the small set of lock-picking tools with a flourish and held them up for everyone to see. “These! This is how you’ve been getting into the locked rooms!”
The entire room fell quiet. All eyes were on Benedict, whose face had gone pale. For a moment, Ray looked ready to declare the case closed.
But then, Benedict sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Mr. Leonard, those are part of my act. I haven’t used them in years.”
Ray blinked, thrown off balance. “So, you’re expecting us to believe that you didn’t sneak out the secret door, pick the lock to Sally’s room, steal her bracelet, and then, the next day, pretend you had something stolen to throw me off track?”
Benedict raised his hands slightly. They were trembling. “I have tremors, Mr. Leonard. I’ve had them for a while now. That’s why I stopped performing certain tricks, like the lock-picking escape. I can’t pick locks anymore. That requires a steady hand.”
Ray’s triumphant expression deflated faster than a punctured balloon. He stood there, holding the lock-picking tools awkwardly, as realization dawned on him.
“Oh,” Ray mumbled, his face turning a little red. “Well... I didn’t know about that.”
The room remained silent for a beat before Benedict, ever the gentleman, gave a slight smile. “No harm done, Mr. Leonard. But I assure you, I’m not your thief.”
Ray muttered something under his breath as he slipped the lock-picking tools back into Benedict’s bag. I sat on the table, flicking my tail with amusement.
Ray straightened up, clearing his throat. “Right. Sorry about the confusion, Benedict.”
Benedict smiled warmly, his usual calm demeanor returning. “No worries, Mr. Leonard. I appreciate your thoroughness.”
As we walked out of the common room, Ray gave me a sheepish look. “Well, that didn’t go quite as planned.”
I flicked my tail, letting out a soft meow. Don’t worry, Ray. You’ll get ’em next time. Probably.