The professor entered the caf and spotted the table he had been requested to sit at, number six. There were other people in the caf . Someone hidden by a newspaper they were reading, a child and his mother treating themselves to cake, and a man alone drinking coffee while reading the newspaper on the table. As Layton made his order for an Earl Grey tea, the person who had hidden themselves behind a newspaper shut the paper and stood up, sitting at Layton's table. The person was a girl with straight, long beige-coloured hair. She was wearing a blouse and flared jeans. Her eyes were black and showed no hint of emotion in them.
"Hershel Layton, I presume?" the girl asked coldly, continuing to browse through the newspaper.
"That's right. And yourself?" Layton returned. His voice didn't falter and he didn't question the girl at all, even though she was a stranger. Layton found the coldness of the girl strange, as if it had been broken then repaired badly.
"My name is of no importance quite yet, Hershel," the girl replied coolly. "It has only been a few days since Clive Dove was arrested. I presume you know him?"
"I do. What of it?" Layton asked, taking a sip of his newly delivered tea.
"And does Clive have any relatives?" the girl asked.
"Not any living ones that I know of," Layton replied.
"Then I presume the name Cecilia is not familiar to you?" the girl asked, raising an eyebrow. Layton shook his head. "Take some time to examine this photograph. I will be back in several minutes." The girl stood up and walked off, leaving a photograph on the table. Layton looked at the photo. A young Clive was standing with his arm around a girl, probably just a year younger than him. She had the same hair and eyes as Clive and her face was the same shape as his. They shared such resemblance, it couldn't be coincidental. Who was the girl? Just as Layton began to ponder, the girl returned in new clothes.
"Who are you?" Layton asked curiously. The girl placed a hand on her hip and smirked.
"Cecilia Dove, Clive's younger sister," Cecilia said. "Whom you entirely failed to detect, despite my appearance in many reports."
"But it never did state your surname," Layton pointed out. "When I saw a Cecilia, I just presumed you were another inhabitant. I never would've dreamed you would be Clive's sister. I never obtained any official reports; there were none."
"A good point - but aren't you the famous Hershel Layton? The Golden Garden, St. Mystere, Folsense and then you deducted Clive with barely a shred of evidence. Surely you should find a simple girl?" Cecilia mocked.
"If you brought me here to mock me, I'll finish my tea and leave," Layton replied coolly, sending a frosty glare at Cecilia who barely noticed.
"No, that's not what I brought you here for. I visited Clive in prison yesterday and he told me about a citizen of Future London that disappeared. It wasn't just a mediocre member; Alma Ryers was one of the main parts of the plan. She was to act as a future Flora, as it would look suspicious if Flora didn't appear. But the day before you arrived, Alma wouldn't answer her mobile phone, her house was empty and nobody had seen her. We had to erase Alma from the entire plan, which caused quite a bit of insanity for a day. I was considered, but I was rejected because of my personality. Eventually, we gave up on Flora. But Alma is still gone," Cecilia explained.
"Interesting," Layton nodded. "But what does that have to do with me?"
"A lot," Cecilia said, placing an envelope on the table. "If you'll read the letter. Feel free to read it aloud if that makes you think more intelligently." Layton decided to read it aloud, if only so he could hear the words.
"Dear Cecilia, Clive & Hershel... I hope this letter finds you badly, as I do not wish you to be in good health, not now nor ever. I had hoped Cecilia would search Ryers's house more thoroughly, but she overlooked many obvious clues. What a fool she is. Anyway, I am holding Alma hostage. A ransom is necessary for her release. In the meantime, I am torturing her. I would like to meet you at Pat's Coffee Shop. Any date from 10am til 3pm is fine, but please hurry," Layton read. He put down the letter and turned to the man who was drinking coffee and still reading the paper.
"Found me out, hmm? Very well. Follow me, Hershel, Cecilia," the man said, pulling on a pair of sunglasses and laying down his newspaper. His skin was pale and pulled against his face, revealing his high cheekbones. Huge bags lay under the man's eyes and he was wearing layer upon layer of clothing, even though the heating was on in the building and both Cecilia and Layton were covered in sweat in their small amount of layers. The man led them into the male bathroom, but Cecilia wasn't repulsed by the idea of entering a male bathroom. She was blurred from all type of nervousness surrounding opposite genders, as she hadn't grown up properly. At school, she had no friends and only had studying on her mind. She ignored everyone but the teacher.
The men's toilet was scarcely used, Cecilia noted. She'd seen plenty of male toilets that had been used - stains on the wall, wet tissue paper, et cetera. This toilet was clean - the walls had never been stained, the floors were clean and shiny, too shiny to ever have been covered with wet tissue paper. Cecilia's eye saw more than the average person, and she brushed past the man, kicking open a door. Sitting on the toilet, gagged and handcuffed, was Alma Ryers. Cecilia spun round, pulling a gun out of her pocket and pointing at the man.
"You..." Cecilia began, trailing off. She approached the man, pressing the gun to his forehead. "In case you're thinking that I'm not going to pull this trigger, remember who my brother is. I've also bribed all the shopkeepers - they're ridding our money right now. None of us were ever here."
"Cecilia," Layton hastily interrupted. "You don't have to do this." He didn't want a repeat of Clive, especially with such a talented girl whose science calculations rivalled those of leading scientists. "They won't pity you if you have no motive."
"No motive?" Cecilia spat. "Oh, I have plenty of motive. Now. I want Alma set free, right now. Or the pair of you get it. I'm not leaving eyewitnesses behind." The man walked over to Alma, wary of the gun pointed at his head, and pulled off the hostage's gag and released her from the handcuffs. Alma fled the building instantly.
"What is your motive?" Layton asked, careful not to bring Cecilia's rage and blow himself and the mysterious man to Hell.
"This... monstrosity of a man... A bullet to Constance's head, bullets to my arms, then the bullets that are meant for Clive that I take. This man killed Constance Dove, and I suppose I can say he killed me, since I proceeded to flatline six times during my operation," Cecilia spat. "Give me one good reason why I don't kill you now." She was no longer speaking to Layton, instead to the man, who felt the cold barrel of the gun against the center of his forehead again.
"Then we put him in jail," Layton said calmly, noticing the man unable to formulate a reason. Cecilia shook her head.
"Jail won't do it. You've got five seconds to think of a reason yourself," Cecilia growled. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero." Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger and Layton found himself covered in the man's blood and brains. What was left of the man's body slumped and fell. Cecilia walked over to Layton, casually looked him up and down and pulled the bullet from a bit of brain. Layton gagged - in a few minutes, he was going to throw up whether he liked it or not. Cecilia placed her thumb on Layton's cheek and retracted it, glancing at the blood that had been transferred to her thumb. Cecilia pocketed the gun, washed her hands in the sink and walked away in perfect time, because the minute she'd gone, Layton vomited on the floor and called the police.
Cecilia sat alone in her sizeable mansion. She had dismissed a great many servants, but Larisa had refused to go and was doing the duties of many slaves - cooking, cleaning, laundry... Cecilia set aside her precious research to tidying the Dove household each day, but the only work that needed doing was dusting. Cecilia grew bored of it, so she switched to landry duty. She sat at her desk, several books open and her empty paper filled with scribbles but Cecilia couldn't think any more. The man she had shot - she didn't even know his name. To say she had planned the shooting in advance was wrong in a sense - Cecilia wanted to keep the meeting behind closed doors, but the situation had escalated when Cecilia recognised the man as the murderer of Constance Dove.
"M'lady," came Larisa's worried call. "Are you quite alright?"
"I'm fine, Larisa. As I told you, you are dismissed. I no longer need people working here. There is little to no mess, hardly any laundry to do, and I am perfectly able to cook for myself," Cecilia persisted.
"No! I'm staying with you! You're unfit to be on your own, Cecilia, look at you!" Larisa yelled, getting personal. Larisa only used Cecilia's name when she was attempting to make a point, but when Cecilia merely blew a strand of hair out her face, Larisa knew it was time. "Ugh, I'm calling you a therapist."
"PLEASE!" Cecilia screamed, stopping Larisa. Her employer and friend's distress was rare, and only was shown when Larisa mentioned calling a therapist. "Please... No therapists..." Larisa looked at Cecilia's eyes. They showed no emotion, as usual. Larisa began to wonder if Cecilia had been so out of touch with the world that she didn't know how to show emotions any more. But the quality to her voice stopped Larisa from getting a therapist and leaving Cecilia to her research, though as days went by there was no work produced until there was a ring of the doorbell. Only one person was scheduled to ring the doorbell that day - Clive Dove, after his early release from prison. He was looking forward to it almost as much as Cecilia, but the distraught sister needed Clive more than he needed her.
Larisa caught the door first, but Cecilia was down the stairs in a flash, reminding both Clive and Larisa that despite her withdrawn personality, Cecilia was well exercised and could run like a demon. Clive had only walked into the house when Cecilia threw herself into his arms. Clive struggled to keep himself upright but won the struggle, wrapping his arms around his sister. She was dependant on him.
"Okay, okay, I'm home," Clive said, disentangling himself from Cecilia's arms. She followed him through to the living room, where Clive noticed her lack of sleep and had her sleep. He sat on one end of the sofa and Cecilia slept with her head on his lap and the rest of her body on the other half of the sofa. Cecilia, who had such difficulty sleeping with Clive in prison, fell asleep within several minutes.