IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE! Three quick, classic cases.

ON THE EDGE OF DEATH, PART THREE

QUESTIONING ROBERT MCKINLEY

The two were escorted by one of the guards to the room of the closest old friend. As soon as they got there, John put one ear to the door. Immediately, a smirk appeared on his face. "Didn't Mrs Keene say that he has a wife?" he whispered.

She matched his tone, answering: "Yes, Patricia."

"She's supposed to be home, or at least not here."

"Correct."

"Ah, naughty Robert, on your sick spouse... Alice," he called, gesturing for her to get closer, which she did. "As soon as I knock I want you to put your ear to the door and listen to what happens." Seeing the hesitation, mixed with disgust – she certainly had caught on by the crumbs of context he'd left – he spoke again: "Trust me, it'll be interesting."

John knocked, and she followed through with the request. There was a soft scream, some cursing; a man's voice said, "You stay here." The detecting knocked again. A loud "Yes, I'm coming" was heard, then a much quieter "Do you think..." followed by the man's voice once again, "Rosy, just stay here, don't move, don't talk, it'll be fine." Only then the sound of bare feet started moving toward the door, prompting her to step back.

When it opened ajar, the fraction of his image that could be see was right about how she imagined him to be: dishevelled, his clothes messy, an irritated expression.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I'm detective Alderton, this is my assistant Miss Camden. Your friend's daughter has been kidnapped, while she is being blackmailed into sitting on her windowsill as if ready to jump to her demise."

"We have reason to believe that the perpetrator is the same person who sent you the invite to the hotel," chimed in Alice.

If the cheater had been a couple of inches further away, the double change in his countenance from hearing the two sentences would have gone undetected. "Grace? How do you know it's the same man?"

"A note was slid under her door, the handwritings are too similar for it to be a coincidence."

"That means, Mr McKinley," remarked John, to make sure he understood – he didn't have faith in common sense anymore ever since he'd started working as detective. "That every person who received the invite could be his next target, for all we know."

Robert appeared to be reflecting on it in depth for a moment, to come up with the best possible solution to all his problems: "Well, there's no reason anyone would want to do that, and also, I don't even know you Mr. Andertin, so leave me alone." Satisfied, right after finishing his short, yet efficient speech, he tried to close the door.

The detective, ready for such an action, put his foot in the way to block it, and started pulling on it. "Not so fast, Robby."

Alice looked around: the guard who'd accompanied them had already scurried off. She did not have enough raw strength to help him by pulling the door too, but she couldn't stand there watching while the cheater gained the upper hand. What did she have on her? A notebook, a pen, her trusty pistol. She chose the last option, turned it the wrong way, before jamming it multiple times on the fingers peeking out, while the mister was too busy trying to push the foot out to notice anything was about to happen. The screams that followed were bloodcurdling, the insults of a vulgar type she hadn't heard since she'd had to reject a drunken request for physical affection. At last, he let go, leaving time and space for Alderton to get inside the room.

"Who do we have here... Hi dear, I suppose you name isn't Patricia, is it?"

"Uhm... No..."

"You leave my wife out of this," shouted the other man, going after him. "How do you even know her name? Is this even legal? Get out!"