I made this story a few months ago for a project. I was highly impressed by the results, and I am now hoping to make a sequel. Anyway, I thought I could share my masterpiece with all you mystery fans out there. Enjoy!!

                                       The Adventure of Dr. Willis

I have shared many extravagant adventures with my colleague and friend, Dr. Martin Willis. We have seen almost everything a man can see with his own eyes. But I would say in my own opinion that one of the best adventures I have had so far has to do with a very cunning swindle, and an epic plot for revenge.
It all took place one morning in the abnormally cold winter of 1897. Dr. Willis and I had been visiting Manchester for a client who had been robbed in broad daylight by a man who was now behind bars. We were to be on a train back to London at 10:30. We were packing our belongings and preparing to sign out of the inn when we heard a loud knocking on the door. The man in the door worked for the inn, and gave us a very peculiar look as he handed us a letter. The envelope read: “For Mr. Willis.” The man closed the door as my friend opened the envelope.
He said with a sigh, “I guess we aren’t going anywhere. Sorry Ethan, it appears we are going to be here for at least 3 more days.”
“Why? Don’t tell me it is another client!”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“We are to look into the cause of a death. We must meet the client by 14:00 today at Deansgate where she will tell us everything we need to know to get started.”
“Well then, I guess we can say goodbye to tonight's comedy back home.”
“Agreed ‘mon amie’, I too was looking forward to the show.”
We arrived at Deansgate by cart at around 13:50.
“The client will be here any minute,” Willis stated.
The train arrived at exactly 14:00. After all of the other passengers left the train, a lady, with a wooden cane and a wool coat, slowly made her way down the stairs and off of the train.
“This is the person who we are to meet,” my friend pointed to the lady.
“And how do you know this?”
“You see Ethan, this person is walking much slower than anybody else her age normally would. I can tell her age because of how she places her footing. Older people are more cautious about their footing, but younger people are able to walk more efficiently. The first thing that came to my mind was that she could have walking problems. But I soon noticed that she had a veil covering her face, a clear sign of mourning, which already explains how she walks. She is walking so slowly because of her state of depression, caused by the death of someone she dearly loves. As the veil covers her face so it is hard to see and she walks so slowly from depression, the lady decided to use a cane and walk so slowly as a disguise, because something clearly has her worried: something which she must avoid as her life depends on it. This, Ethan, is how I know she is our client.”
“Then let us go meet with her,” I replied.
“Use caution approaching her,” Willis warned.
As we slowly approached the lady, she suddenly and swiftly got up, threw the cane to the ground, and attempted to run from us. We followed her out of the station and down Castle street. We followed her for almost a minute by the time the road turned. She eventually ran out of breath under a bridge and snuck into a small gap, barely wide enough for anyone to go into, in between the two bridges. Willis and I followed her into the gap. Willis, with his slender figure, and his height, easily squeezed himself into the tiny area. There the lady stopped and removed her veil, revealing her face to us.
“Thank you so much for answering my plea,” the lady whispered.
“It is my duty to help those in need with my special abilities,” Dr. Willis answered with his own whisper.
“I am in great need at this time, I greatly appreciate your help.”
“I am glad to help. Tell me now, why would you run from us?”
“Because I needed to talk to you in private. If I ran, I knew you would follow me, for I have heard about you.”
“You have?”
“Yes sir.”
“Pray, let me introduce my colleague. My friend here is Mr. Ethan Hill. We are both here to help you with whatever you need.”
“That is very good.”
“Pray, tell us what we need to know.”
“Alright, so I tell you everything?” She seemed uneasy.
“Yes.”
“Yes, yes. It happened last week.”
“Go on,” Willis replied.
“My name is Mrs. Mary Clark. My husband, Mr. Robert Clark, and I own a small butcher shop in the heart of Cambridge. We live on the second story above our shop. It was a cold night in Cambridge last week. My husband and I were asleep when we both woke to the sound of a loud bang. My husband told me to stay in bed while he went to investigate. My husband took a butcher knife, which he always kept with himself, and went downstairs to see what is wrong. It was silent for several minutes. Then, suddenly, I heard him scream, ‘gun!’ I then heard a crackling noise, which scared me enough to flee the home. Almost as soon as I left the building, everything I knew went up in flames. At the time, I thought my husband escaped already, so I didn’t think about him as much as my belongings being on fire. The firemen arrived and eventually put out the fire. Only one part of the building, the lower kitchen, was left standing.”
Willis answered, “this seems like a very interesting case. Pray, tell me how long it was until you found out that your husband was dead?”
“Why, as I remember it, it was about 2 days before they found my husband’s mutilated body.”
“I am very sorry to hear that. I must ask, shall we have permission to investigate the area in which your husband met his untimely end?”
“As long as it helps you find whoever killed my husband, I will grant you the permission.”
“Very well then. Thank you for your time Mrs. Clark, we shall be in Cambridge at 10:00 tomorrow.”
“Again, thank you very much.”
“Anytime, ma'am.”
So we left the very tiny gap in between the bridges, and we started our way to the station, where our cart was waiting for us. We took the cart back to the inn where we would stay one more night before being off again on a train that was not going back to London.
We boarded the train at 6:45 to go south to Cambridge. The train departed the station shortly before 7:00. After a few hours of riding, (at this point I lose track of time due to the severe boredom of the ride) we finally arrived in Cambridge. We got off the train and went outside to catch a cart heading to the small shop. We eventually got a cart that would take us to the site in which Mr. Clark saw his unfortunate end. Mrs. Clark was waiting for us by the time we got there.
“Why, thank you for coming,” she exclaimed with a smile, “it’s been so long since I have last seen you!”
My friend replied, “I appreciate your humor, Mrs. Clark, but we have business to attend to, yes?”
“Agreed, Dr. Willis.”
“Very well, let us investigate the scene.”
Dr. Martin Willis, as was his wont, went about investigating the once-standing house. He almost immediately found something of interest.
“Does Your husband always keep this much money in the kitchen cabinets, Mrs. Clark?”
“Not that I know of.”
Willis continued his investigation, clearly intrigued by its nature. Within a few minutes, he pulled a blade from the rubble.
“This is the knife you spoke of, Mrs. Clark?”
“Yes, yes it is!”
“Ethan, do you happen to have a pen and paper?”
I replied, “yes, I always do sir.”
“Write it down Ethan, we have our cause of death.”
Mrs. Clark replied, “how!? That was his knife, he was very capable of using it to defend himself! He was a very strong man, and could easily kill a man who was threatening his very life!”
“Yes, but also remember, there may be many people stronger than him. Do you know of anybody around her who has near equal strength as Mr. Robert Clark?”
“In fact I do.”
“What is his name and where is the address of his dwelling so that we may speak with him? Write this down Ethan.”
“His name is Allen Potter. He is a fellow butcher who helps run the shop. He lives Down the street from here, in the blue house.”
I replied, “It’s recorded Willis!”
“Very good, now let us speak with Mr. Allen Potter.”
It was early afternoon (the only thing helping me track the time at the time was the sun’s position in the sky) when we reached Allen Potter’s dwelling place. Willis told me to stay put while he loudly knocked on the door. The door cracked open.
“Who are you,” the little man asked.
“I am Dr. Martin Willis, I am here to speak with Mr. Allen Potter if he is around today.”
“Yes, I am Allen Potter. Please come in!”
“Thank you Mr. Potter. Come in Ethan, I will need your assistance.” I walked in and respectively removed my shoes. Meanwhile, Allen started talking.
“This is about the fire, isn’t it?”
“You are very perceptive, Mr. Potter.”
“Alright, I will explain it all now: I am a very light sleeper. I awoke to the sounds of screams and sirens. When I woke, I saw a bright flickering light from down the street. I went to see what was going on, and I saw the fire. I decided to run down to the scene and help. I may be small, Mr. Willis, but do not underestimate my strength based on my size. I thought I could do something to help down there, but the entire house was ablaze. I stayed until everything was gone. Only ashes were left, Mr. Willis.”
“Stop right there,” Willis replied. “There was yet one room standing when you left.”
“Really? Which one?”
“The kitchen.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“Can I please finish my statement now sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“Where was I? Oh yes, um... Yes, ok. I saw nothing besides ashes when I left. Of course, the ash was still heavy in the air, so I could not see that last piece of the building. A person ran out of the ashes, coughing, probably from smoke inhalation. She ran right past me, only caring about the inferno behind her. I used to know the building in and out, but after it burned to the ground, It looked like I had never been in there in my life. So of course, I left, knowing that everything I just saw would never leave my mind for as long as I live.”
“This woman you saw, do you happen to know her?”
“In fact, now that I think of it, I do recognize her.”
“What is her name?”
“If I recall correctly, her name is Elizabeth.”
“Any last names?”
“Yes, Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Marchun!”
“Strange name. Where does she live?”
“Across town, a nice white house.”
“Thank you for your time sir, we now must be on our way.”
“Thank you for coming!”
We arrived at Elizabeth’s house. It was rather large, with 3 stories and many windows all around the house. Willis knocked on the door the same way he did at the last house. We waited for what seemed like eternity before a man opened the door. He wore a white tuxedo.
The man said in a strong accent, “how may I help you today sir?”
Willis replied, “I would like to see Mrs. Elizabeth Marchun if she is home.”
The man answered, “I am sorry sir, she is not here right now, but you may wait for her here. Follow me sir.” The man led Willis and I down a long hallway and into a room. “Sit here please, Elizabeth will be here in a few minutes.” As the man promised, a couple minutes later, we saw out the window a luxurious white chariot pull up, being pulled by 2 black horses. A lady stepped out of the chariot while the man we saw earlier went up to her and took her bags. She walked into the building, and within 30 seconds, she was opening the door to our room. She entered and sat down on one of the couches that surrounded the room. Willis and Elizabeth quickly introduced each other and then got to business. Willis started the conversation, as always.
“So, I am sure that you know about the fire that occurred at the Clark’s dwelling, yes?”
“Yes, I am fully aware, in fact, I was there when it happened.”
“Which is why we are here to talk to you.”
“I would prefer not to talk about it.”
“Talking about it will make it easier on yourself.”
“Fine, I might as well. I am going to make this as short as I can.”
I started recording.
“I was at the fire, that is true. I was riding my chariot past my friends’ house when very suddenly, I saw smoke from inside of the building. I made a split-second decision to run inside and awake my friend. I found she was not in her bed, and because of the thickness of the smoke, I had no other choice but to get out of the house and flee the building. That is all sir.”
“Are you sure that is all, Mrs. Marchun,” Willis asked.
“Yes, it is all.”
“Who was driving the cart, Mrs. Marchun?”
“That is none of your concern, Mr. Willis.”
Willis became slightly agitated. “I am going to ask you again, Mrs. Marchun, please tell us who was driving the cart that night.”
Mrs. Marchun responded in her own agitated manner, “again, that is none of your concern Dr. Martin Willis.”
Willis was now furious. He slammed his hand onto the table in front of Mrs. Marchun and asked yet again, in a whisper.
“Mrs. Marchun, with all due respect, I am a detective trying to solve a case. I have connections to the police, and I have a mourning client wanting answers about the poor woman's’ husband's’ death. Now, tell me who was driving the cart that night, because it is of my every concern to know so I can finally figure out this case!” Mrs. Marchun was justly terrified at my colleagues sudden outburst. She finally mustered the courage to answer Willis’ original question:
“His name is mr. Henry Marchun, and he is my husband. He is out of town doing errands, but he should be back by this evening at the latest.”
Willis responded: “That is just what I wanted to hear, thank you. I now must ask one more favor of you.”
“Yes, what is your question?” Now Marchun was quite nervous.
“I would like to stay here until your husband arrives so we may speak with him.”
“I am not sure that is possible, he has been a very private person lately.”
“So make it possible for us to speak with him.”
“I will.”
“Good to hear, again, thank you Mrs. Marchun.”
Hours past until Mr. Marchun arrived. We wore a plaid sweater and looked surprisingly taller than Willis. He hurriedly entered the room.
Willis quickly said, “thank you for coming, monsieur Marchun, but we will not be needing you today. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but we should be on our way.”
“Thank you for coming, anyways,” Mr. Marchun responded as we exited the room.
As soon as we entered a cart to go to the inn, I asked mr. Willis a question that surprised even me: “why did we leave so soon, Willis?”
Willis took no offense to the question and answered, “I will explain in the inn.”
We got to the inn within 10 minutes and went into the room in the inn in 15 minutes. Now Willis decides to answer my question. “I solved it.”
“What do you mean, how could you solve this with a missing witness?”
“Ethan, I know who the killer is, and I will explain how. I originally thought it might be Mrs. Clark herself because of her odd behavior. But I dismissed that thought when I found the knife. The knife had blood residue on it, which shows that the victim was not killed by the fire, but the knife. This was a deliberate act. Mrs. Clark would not deliberately kill her husband. Who would then? My only other possible suspect is mr. Allen Potter. He is the only person who could possibly use a knife to kill such a strong person. He also worked at the shop, so he knew every inch of the place. The bang that mrs. Clark noted is the result of Potter throwing a gun through the window. Potter broke the window to attract the attention of the clarks, so mr. Clark would confront mr. Potter. Potter then entered the window and threw the gun to the side. Mr. Clark screamed ‘gun’ to signal that a gunman was in the building. Allen Potter had a struggle with Mr. Clark. Allen Potter finally retrieved the knife from Clark, so he knifed Mr. Clark, making sure he was dead. Potter had a fire going during the struggle, which gave him the advantage due to Mr. Clarks case of pyrophobia. When Mr. Clark was dead, Potter escaped through the broken window. Now the kitchen was left standing because it was re-enforced to be more resilient to an open flame, because kitchens is where a lot of fires start. The struggle occurred in the kitchen. So, what was the motive? Well, Mr. Clark always kept the knife, so he must have known, or at least feared, that something terrible would eventually happen, which means that Mr. Clark was running a planned crime of his own. Potter found out that Clark was paying him much less than he was supposed to be paid. To top that, Potter was paying extra for the products he received from mr. Clark. Mr. Potter eventually lost so much money that he could not pay his taxes, so sparked a fury in him that only murder could quench. When we went to investigate him, he acted unusually friendly to us, which supports my claim. Come now, we must confront him immediately.”
“I agree, friend.”
We quickly took a cart to the home of mr. Allen Potter. When we got there, we found police surrounding the area, ready for anything that comes at them. I had to ask the question, but Dr. Willis beat me to it, “explain to me officer, why is this house surrounded?”
The officer responded, “the occupant of this house was found dead, we are ready to enter to investigate.”
“Don’t go inside, to the back!” As Willis rushed to the back of the house, the police and I followed him to the backyard of Potter’s house, where Willis was on the ground wrestling with a man whom I couldn’t recognize because of the blackness of the night. During the fight, I heard a loud bang, the same sound as described in mrs. Clarks’ story. Right after that sound occurred, Willis got up and stared down at the corpse of Henry Marchun.
“The murderer is dead,” Willis stated.
I was shocked, “I thought Allen Potter was the murderer!”
“He still is Ethan,” Willis replied. “Although this was very unfortunate and unexpected, I do understand why. You see, Henry felt personally affected by the fire which he had nothing to do with. You see, his wife was the friend of Mrs. Clark, Henry Marchuns’ husband, was driving her that night. Elizabeth left the cart to save her friend. Elizabeth could have died herself in there, so Henry felt he needed revenge on the perpetrator, who he later found out was Potter. Henry, in a burst of fury, killed Potter. Both murderers are now dead, so there is no need to fear them anymore.”
I responded, “I see, Willis. Now please, we must get back to London, I am homesick!”
So you now see, at that time Willis was just another everyday detective, but he was able to solve some of the most interesting mysteries since then. He never got rich, for he was paid by his job. Of course he got famous for his amazing work in Cambridge, but still he didn’t appreciate the fame. He is a person who would rather sit back and relax and have some freedom. Either way though, now that he solved the mystery, we can now go back to London.