A/N: Entry for Fictober 2018, day 12.
Prompt: "Who could do this?"
A detective and a librarian arrived in the burned ruins of the mansion. The event was still recent, the place felt hotter than the surrounding area and there was a lot of smoke. The two men wore what looked like surgical masks, not only to protect them from the smoke but also to protect their identities. They had to lie to the Official Fire Department to get access to the area, which was always an unpleasant thing to do but was almost always necessary.
The firefighters had arrived too late to save anything or anyone. They couldn't be blamed. The two men had enough experience with those kinds of fires to know they were particularly hard to put out, and almost always were efficient in destroying all the objects and lives they were intended to, no matter how many people fought to put them out.
The two were near what used to be a living room.
"Who could do this?" The librarian asked, voice muffled by the mask.
"We have a long list of suspects." The detective sighed. "The Baudelaire couple have made many enemies."
"I still don't understand." The librarian said, putting on a pair of rubber gloves. "They have been away from the organization for years. Why now?"
"They have been away from the organization for years. They were vulnerable." The detective said, reaching for his pockets to take his own gloves. "According to the blueprints, the library was over there." He gave his friend a sympathetic look.
The librarian nodded and walked to the remains of the library, where he looked for anything that could have survived and could be important. His eyes were drawn to a half-burned photograph in which he could barely identify the Baudelaire couple. He took it, for archiving purposes, and let out a sad sigh.
Meanwhile, the detective also checked the ruins for any hint of what exactly took place there right before the fire, and hopefully anything that could point to a culprit.
For a while, the two worked in silence, managing somehow to suppress their own emotions in order to get what they needed from that place. It was hard, seeing everywhere the bits that remained of lives that were destroyed and a family that was broken. They had been friends of the people who lived there. They too had their lives marked by fires.
The librarian was carefully putting every page he could find that had something still legible in special envelopes to be taken away in safety to his personal collection. The detective called him. He walked back to the living room and found him kneeling near a broken bottle.
"Wasn't Bertrand trying to stop drinking?" He asked.
"That was before the children were even born." The librarian replied. "I don't know how things went since then."
The detective nodded, and stood up. As he did so, he noticed a small white object that stood out against the grey surroundings. He took it. It was a handkerchief with the initials "L S" embroidered on it.
"A suspect shows up." The detective said, sarcasm evident in his voice.
The librarian frowned. "How many handkerchiefs can an arsonist lose during his crimes?"
"A better question would be: why would a dead man need a handkerchief?" Shaking his head, the detective put the object in his pocket. "I am glad we arrived first."
"They will still find a way blame this on him. You know that."
The detective sighed. "Yes. That is entirely another matter. Have you finished in the library? I want to check something there."
"There is not much to do with the amount of time and resources we have. I will not be able to carry more than fits in my bag."
The detective nodded.
"I wish the tunnel was not compromised."
"Do you think any of them could have used it?" The librarian asked, some hope showing in his voice.
"If they did, they will need our help right now."
The librarian nodded, feeling the hope fading. "I will check if I can find anything else in the house."
They once again separated. The detective carefully examined the secret trapdoor, looking for signs of recent use, before knocking on it using a secret pattern. If someone was hidden in the tunnel, they would reply to it. No reply came.
The librarian went back there, after finding a few more items of interest. He didn't need to ask about the tunnel, as the answer was clear.
"What about that?" He asked, pointing to an open drawer where a metallic object rested. "Should we take it?"
"No." The detective shook his head. "Leave it here. The children will find it."
"It's too damaged to be of any use to them. It will probably turn to dust with a touch."
"It is a clue. It will help them find us, when the time is right."
The librarian nodded. "What will happen to them?"
"Our associates in the bank will make sure they are sent somewhere safe."
"Our associates in the bank have failed before." The librarian pointed.
"What do you suggest?" The detective asked.
"Taking them in ourselves. Recruiting them."
"It's too dangerous." The detective shook his head.
"They could stay in the Hotel…"
"They're too young."
"We were younger."
"That's not what their parents wanted."
"Their parents aren't here now, are they?"
The librarian regretted his words as soon as they came. They were cold, almost cruel, and a proof that maybe he should not go near the children right now.
"We will respect their wishes." The detective said in a tone that wouldn't accept arguments.
The librarian shook his head. "They shouldn't be left alone."
"They won't be alone. Someone will keep them safe."
"Who?"
"I don't know." The detective confessed. "I don't have the list."
"The list is too old. They have legal relatives in all the organization. From before the schism, Jacques. Many wicked people may still be on the list."
"We can't kidnap three children because of a possibility, Dewey." The detective said in a harsh tone. "This is the sort of thing our parents did. The sort of thing we swore to stop."
"This could cost their lives!"
"If they get in danger, we will save them."
"When we realize that, it may be too late."
The two stared at each other for a moment, the tension between them tangible.
"I know you are worried, Dewey, but you're starting to sound like them. These children just lost their home and their parents. Their innocence is all they have left. They deserve to keep it."
The librarian wanted to argue, but he knew the detective was right.
The sound of an approaching car made both men aware their time was up. Instead of going back to the front entrance, they walked to the back of the terrain, where they hid among the trees of the backyard while a man and three children entered by the front.