Chapter 6: What Would You Do?

Letting the pastries rest on the baking trays, Charlotte decided to rest and have some of her own pastries.

'Not bad... It isn't too sweet or salty. They actually taste good.'

As she begins to enjoy her peace and quiet, she heard the door open.

She quickly went out of the kitchen and looked up to see an older gentleman.

He wore a big beige-colored coat with a hilariously small tophat that although fitted, seemed way too small for his head. He had a small mustache and had a copy of today's newspaper with him.

"Good afternoon Charlotte! Sorry to barge into your shop in the middle of your break. After this morning, I really needed something to fill my stomach and so I immediately thought of your bakery."

Charlotte looked at him, unsure of how to respond.

She tried not to show it on her face, but it seems to catch the older gentleman's eyes.

Going the safe route, she replied "It's quite alright. I need to get back on my feet one way or another. Please pick out a pastry and I'll help you by the counter."

Eyeing her for a bit, he turned and looked over the options of baked goods.

He decided to start a small conversation.

"Have you seen Bertha this morning? She should have stopped by today to get some bread."

She couldn't recall who Bertha was. From his response, he seemed quite familiar with her as he used her first name. Assuming they were both acquainted, Charlotte replied, "I think I might have spotted her this morning. I was quite out of it today, I just recovered from a cold."

'If I am lying about my cold, I should just take it all the way. Besides, distracting him from the topic of Bertha is a good thing.'

"Oh my. Have you taken some medicine? You must be careful in these weathers."

"Yes, I am sure I'll be in good condition by tomorrow."

He gave a small hum and turned to the counter.

"Bertha couldn't have come this morning as she also had a cold," he eyed Charlotte.

'Well, sh*t.'

"I must not have noticed this morning. Come to think of it, many people are under the weather these days, no?" Charlotte questioned, trying to cover her mistake.

"Yes, quite so..." he slowly replied.

They made eye contact for a moment. Silence enveloped the shop.

Charlotte could see his clear eyes when she looked at him. As if there were no clouds in sight. It gave her a bit of an understanding of the man before her.

Those eyes were calm but his attention to detail was sharp. Similar to a quiet warrior, discretely pursuing justice. There was a light passion in those slightly condescending eyes as if inspecting her whole being.

It sort of reminded her of her teacher, those clear eyes. They both were quiet, but once look deeper, it was like comparing a lake to the vast ocean.

Charlotte tried to put up an uncaring stance as if this didn't bother her. A picture-perfect poker face, or the best poker face she can muster.

Of course, she was no actor. The man in front of her could pick up discrepancies here and there, seeing through her lies. Yet, he decided to play along, as if he dealt with this before.

He smiled and handed her the money.

"Well, colds are quite common these days. It's probably the weather," he said, breaking the silence.

He looked back at her and mysteriously said, "The case this morning was quite hard to deal with."

He looked out the window of the shop and saw people passing by.

As if talking to himself, "Anyone could have caused this as even the victim couldn't see their face."

He sighed, "However, Ms. Brerman did say she saw a man walk out so that's all we have to base it on."

He once again looked at Charlotte, "I have a hunch. I think this won't be as simple as finding a guy that fits the description. What do you think?"

Charlotte gave the question a thought.

He sighed when he saw her thinking. As he walked away, she suddenly blurted out, "Mysteries can always be solved, but it doesn't guarantee the chance of solving them. Sometimes luck plays a part as well."

He stopped and looked back at Charlotte. She continued, "Some mysteries stay as mysteries, even after a case is closed without a conclusion. It stays as one and continues to haunt, reminding all of us it was there."

She looked out the window, "We take these hauntings to the grave, knowing the truth that someone out there knows all. Knowing the fact that they got away with a deadly secret, probably takes a toll on them as well."

"What are you getting at Ms. Charlotte?" the gentleman asked.

"Not much. Just a thought."

"A thought?"

"What do you do in a situation like such? If you left a case unsolved?" she eyed him.

"It has happened before. But these things sometimes take time."

"But what if it was important? So important in fact, that you can't stop it from clinging onto yourself?"

She didn't wait for his answer, "It makes us all, even the ones who did the crime, recognize the fact that we are powerless. Yet, we do hold power to do something, but, we can't use it how we want it."

Charlotte stared at him, questioning, "How do you face that, with the burden of knowing and not knowing, the burden of acting but having a mental barrier stopping you, knowing the fruits of effort can be rotten in vain?"

He gave it genuine thought. Turned to face her fully and lightly smiles.

"I don't know. But something tells me I will know soon," he ambiguously said.

"I need to get back to work. I am actually in charge of this case, so I must stay on task."

He turned to leave, probably thinking of something.

'Is it okay for me to foreshadow like this?' Charlotte questioned as she stared at his departing back.

She lightly sighed and went to get the copy of the newspaper.

In the story, it wrote the name of a certain detective.

'Detective Cromwell... what an interesting name.'