Once Upon a Story [ INCONSISTENT UPDATES ]

The Prodigy IV

ִֶָ. ..𓂃🪽་༘࿐

James wasn't surprised when Beecham told him he would be staying with him for the duration of the investigation. But the crowd stood as a witness, forcing him to put on an act, disappointed he wouldn't be able to see his parents.

"We didn't do anything wrong. This isn't fair, Uncle Beecham."

"That is the price of intelligence. Dealing with the dogs that want to eat from your table and drink from your cup. That is the world we live in."

They left the academy. James attempted to guess the exam questions while Beecham diverted most of his chatter with vague answers. His trio of friends returned home, unable to hide their shock at the officers waiting for them.

James' warning was correct.

They were questioned, and thankfully, knew close to nothing. Felicity, thanks to her anxiety about the whole situation, was mostly dismissed. Kris and Clinton were questioned more thoroughly, with no better results. The kids had been subjected to harsher scrutiny from their professors.

The investigators were getting nowhere.

In the days that followed, life proceeded without a hitch. Beecham covered Sébastien's courses, shocked at the stunning performance of his students.

"Why aren't you all in my class if you're clearly capable?" It wasn't to say his students were entirely idiots. A few of them had rightfully earned their place.

"Dr. Sébastien told us: 'Confidence can easily become arrogance when boasted by a fool and Beecham has a talent for crushing one's ego.' Those are his words. We think he's lazy and doesn't want to deal with them."

"Accurate. Tell me, what's your name?"

"Catherine Gundham, sir."

"Have Beecham transfer you to my course. I need another voice of reason besides my own."

She smiled. "No, thank you, sir."

ִֶָ. ..𓂃🪽་༘࿐

Heavy knocks at the door startled James as he studied lung anatomy. He scowled at the ink line that crossed the sketch. Still, he presented himself at the door, leaving it shut.

"You know, it's not polite to break down someone's door like that." His voice was loud enough for them to hear. "And you're not allowed to question me without my parents or a legal guardian present. Dr. Beecham isn't here. Please, come back later. Or feel free to interrupt his lecture and bring him here.

He heard gruff mumbling and shuffling footsteps. They left.

With a satisfied grin, he went back to his business, turning his sketch into an art project. Might as well not let the ink go to waste.

The team of investigators headed straight for the academy. They marched in like soldiers. It was like a storm was rumbling inside the halls.

The classroom doors slammed open. Beecham continued as if there hadn't been a disturbance. His students followed suit. When the investigator stopped at his desk, he turned slowly. Observant.

"Is there no distinction to whom can access our prestigious establishment?"

The uncomfortable detective cleared his throat, hoping to loosen his voice. The students glaring at his back didn't help. "We'd like to question the young lad and request your permission.

Beecham merely turned his back to them to resume his class. "I understand, now. You went to question him alone, and he sent you here like obedient little dogs."

Embarrassed they'd been caught, the detective flushed. "Well, the case is urgent. We must press on."

Rubbing his temples, Beecham sighed. "Quite so. Students, you are dismissed. We will resume this lecture tomorrow. Hopefully by then, we won't have so many rodents scurrying around."

The students laughed and giggled, openly agreeing about their views of the entire affair. A few minutes later, the class was clear. Beecham gathered his notes and strapped his bag to his shoulder. The team followed him to the administration office, where Beecham broke the unfortunate news.

No classes for the day meant another headache added to the Dean's current list of problems.

"All this over an unfounded accusation," the elder scowled. "What a waste of resources."

"It's protocol, sir."

"It's flawed and needs an unbiased peer review. Leave. I've had enough of you simpletons."

Beecham truly loved their Dean, a man after his own heart.

A faint knocking, three in succession with a fourth delayed, had James running from his room. He opened the door and frowned at the company. "You didn't scare them away?"

"That would give them a real reason to question us. Tea, gentleman?"

They refused, now skeptical of the nation's popular brew. Beecham chuckled, enjoying his warm cup with James as they all gathered at the table. The questions began, piecing together the event. James answered honestly. At times, he would get sidetracked, excited about the experiment he did in the lab or the class he attended that day of the incident.

The investigators twisted their questions, tried to find loopholes, breaks in his character.

Anything.

But he gave them nothing.

His answers found him free of any guilt. He attended class with Beecham that morning and was with his parents when the incident happened. The week before, he did supervised work in the lab with Beecham and Clinton. He was rarely alone unless it meant walking back and forth between his classes and home.

The men shared nervous glances. What were they meant to make of all this?

"Thank you for your time, James." A final few sentences were quickly dashed on the notepad. "You will soon be returned to your parents' care."

"Finally! Uncle Beecham can hardly cook."

"I eat to stay alive."

"Yeah? Your mentality is killing my taste buds, Uncle."

"Ungrateful brat."

The investigators politely excused themselves. They had gathered mountains of evidence that led to nothing. They hadn't found a trace of arsenic in anything. The notes, books, and sketches were educational. The testimonies were clean.

There was no one to trial. No evidence of guilt. No murder weapon. Nothing.

The attempt was made, failed, and the culprit had fled.

With nothing left to do (and funds leaving their pockets), they closed the case. Formal apologies were sent to all those involved for the damage caused by the investigation. Everything was back to normal.

"I'm telling you he did it! Why won't any of you believe me!"

"There was no evidence, Marcus!" His father's voice bellowed in the room. "They found nothing. They swept the boy's house, the offices, the laboratories and found nothing. Now, we are made to be fools because our son accused a child of attempted murder out of what looks to be jealousy."

"Father, that boy is not as innocent as he seems. He's manipulative and has everyone wrapped around his finger. You can't trust anything he says!" Marcus was livid. They were all fooled. James was only an innocent child, and his parents were held in high regard in the city. They would never betray the trust they'd built.

He was just jealous.

"You are returning to class tomorrow. We expect you to be on your best behaviour."

"But Father—"

"I don't believe I asked, Marcus."

He fell silent. That conversation was over.