Case Closed

Brumley, England, 1912...

Sheila Birling was running.

She was nearly out of breath as she darted down the concrete pathway, the houses in the neighborhood nearby having dimmed their lights and turned them off.

Her blonde hair, tied up in a bun, bounced as it started to slide out. She wasn't wearing pajamas exactly, but it was something more comfortable than the gown her mother would try to put her into. Her shoes were unfortunately not equipped for running, and her feet started to hurt as she pounded down the pavement.

But none of that mattered to her. She needed answers.

Up ahead, she could see a figure briskly walking away. It was a familiar one-dressed in a long black peacoat with a fedora on his head, back turned to her.

The Inspector. Inspector Goole.

Currently, the man was making his way to a bus stop nearby that was lit with a streetlamp. The lamp cast out the darkness in a small orb around the bus stop, though it only reflected against the low fog that hung in the air, making it more difficult for Sheila's gaze to pierce it.

"Hey!" Sheila shouted, lifting her hand to her mouth in a vain effort to help her voice carry. "Wait! Inspector!"

The Inspector paused as he reached the bus stop, then sighed deeply. He took a few more steps forward, before sitting down on the far end of the bench.

Sheila finally reached the stop, placing her hand on the bench and bending over, panting. There was a cold sweat on her neck and body, which made her warm outfit somewhat uncomfortable.

Once she recovered, Sheila awkwardly stepped forward and sat down, taking the seat next to the Inspector. He had turned, looking over at her with that same unreadable expression he'd used so often earlier that night. His face was clean-shaven, with only a few wrinkles belaying some age to him. It only then occurred to Sheila that she'd never actually found out how old he was-she guessed around the same age as her father.

"So?" the Inspector asked, cocking his head. "Pray tell, what dark events have you bolting down the street so late at night?"

Sheila paused, trying to recollect her thoughts. She'd left the house so quickly, so hurried-her parents and Eric and Gerald had all been in some great argument, so loud she could barely hear herself think. She'd left soon after, desperate for...for answers.

But where to begin? There was so much...so many revelations, after the Inspector had left...

"You're not an Inspector," Sheila eventually settled on. That was a good thing to start with.

Goole chuckled wryly. "That's ridiculous."

"No it isn't!" Sheila insisted. "After you left, we checked with the police department! You aren't working for them!"

Goole shook his head. "I don't have to be working for the police to be an Inspector," he replied, shaking his head. "Just as you don't have to be serving your parents to have come here."

Sheila paused, wincing a bit. Then she blinked, shaking her head. "So I'm supposed to pretend like you weren't being dishonest this entire night?!"

"I never lied to you or your family, I never lie," the Inspector replied, shaking his head. "I told them I was an inspector, which is true. It is no fault of mine if you failed to ask any followup questions."

"I didn't say you lied. I said you were being dishonest. Equivocation is dishonesty just as much as lying is," Sheila replied, holding her head high, folding her arms.