The Winchester Mad Bombings Case - 09

Nothing he said made sense, so Quillsh took him to the dining room to place the candles on the cake. The celebrated looked at him steadily as he heard the "Happy Birthday" and turned the eight lights off with his fingers before he could be stopped.

—Now cut your dessert —ordered Mr. Wammy handing him a knife, but seeing him brandishing the weapon felt a chill running down his back. The offended boy dropped the utensil and left the table.

—It's obvious that you don't trust me, so we can’t make business. You misunderstand me: I hang around places visited by the law because I'm looking for certain policeman, and if I stared so intently at the remaining L signboard, was because I thought it might be a message from my mother, who besides you and my aunt, it's the only person who knows my real name.

—No need to clarify. Come, dear, let’s eat.

—If you don't suspect me, why did you take the bill? I couldn't have bought these chemicals, as they never sell them to someone of my age.

—Then, why did you have that note?

—It's evidence. I found it in the place where he kept me kidnapped.

He was pouring a huge amount of absurd data, but somehow he transmitted honesty. Not wanting him to go away, Quillsh calmed and decided to play along.

—It's better if we talk after dinner.

—Please don't waste my time. If you are not interested in my proposal, I'm leaving right now.

In response, my boss put a spoonful of cake in his mouth, and then a transformation occurred: L eyes shone, while his person changed from gray to a whole range of colors in seconds. "This is the most delicious I've ever tasted in my life," he said while chewing, and ordered another portion, and then another, and another, until the dessert disappeared. His companion feared that he could get indigested, but he didn't dare to restrict him because he looked very happy.

—This is the life you deserve: full of candy, games and good things. Let us adults handle everything else.

—I'm sorry I exalted me before, Mr. Wammy. You have been very kind. I can assume we're friends now, right?

—Count on it, but you have to promise not to go away from me until we find your mother, right?

L reflected a moment and nodded. While he brushed his teeth, the owner of the house conditioned two beds in the guest room to sleep together.

—Well, now we will rest —commanded Quillsh as he locked the room.

—His caution seems useless —the child cynically said—. How do you think I got in your roof? I'm an breaking locks expert.

Quillsh was surprised by that brazen affirmation.

—I've come to a conclusion, Mr. Wammy —L continued with grim countenance—. You won’t trust me until the author of the fires is behind bars.

—It's very simple to prove your innocence: you will remain in my orphanage twenty-four hours, and if something bad happens again, I'll know it was not you.

—I can't stand idly while bombs are still thundering out there. I'm a detective.


—What shall we do then?

—Tell me what you know about the case.

My friend confided everything we had learned and soon fell asleep, but the child was more active than ever and prowled through the mansion until he found the library; at dawn, he had finished reviewing half of the acquis.

—So you're still here, huh?—his host said after discovering him crouching on a pile of books.

—It was a very rewarding night. You have a good collection.

—No wonder you have those dark rimmed eyes. Do you ever rest?

—Thirst for knowledge is stronger than sleep.

When the inventor returned the texts to the shelves, he realized that the boy had chosen many written in French.

—You know languages? —he asked.

—In the orphanage I was taught English.

His partner gathered all his patience to listen extravagances again.

—Didn’t you say you lived with your aunt?

—Mom and she spoke French, and the guy who kidnapped me, English. I couldn’t understand anything he told me, but I was caught by Joy Farm and there I learned this country’s language.

The shelter referred by L was a small farm on the outside of the city.

—You were in Joy Farm?

—I'm not pleased to remember that; I think their goal is not to protect children but to get free labor.

—I'd like you to tell me more, but first let's have breakfast.

—Will there be more cake? —L asked full of excitement.

—No, but we'll eat something also delicious.

The elegant gentleman went to the kitchen to prepare hot cakes. The last time he did it was along his mother, decades ago. L helped to wash all utensils, and enthusiastically ate the pancakes after bathing them with unreal amounts of jam and maple syrup.

—Now tell me: How was your life in the orphanage?—Quillsh asked, wishing to resume the conversation.

—I'm sorry, but I must go —L said, heading for the exit.

—Our deal was that you stay with me.

—I need to trust you; if you let me go now, you will show you are dependable.

—Today we celebrate the birthday of Willy with many treats.

—Well, maybe I can visit you.

Wammy ran into a bookcase and pulled out a Polaroid, which he handed to the child.

—We'll need someone to take photos.

—Can you pick me up at 10:30 outside the cathedral?

—Of course. See you there.

L embraced the device and ran without looking back. He disappeared so fast, that was not possible to see which path he took. My boss wrote: "I was begging to heaven that fascinating kid was a good person and we could meet again."