"Yes, I imagine so." James leaned back in his chair once more, watching Mr. Cavanaugh.
"Who, indeed," he echoed, "One would assume Leon to be the culprit, naturally. But the poor boy is trapped in the dungeons and, if he were really the only suspect, you would not have called me here." James smiled. It didn't take much deducing to see that he was being accused of having sent the doll. The way Ben ran his mouth, James' name was probably the first one to tumble out from his jowls. James wasn't fooling himself into thinking Ben held anything but disdain for him, especially after he'd treated him like a lesser.
Still, James hoped Ben had long hours of self-contemplation, wondering what kind of a person he was who would so easily be willing to bite another person, make them bleed, and then leave them in a closet to come report on a job well done. James remembered how Ben had expressed his desire for Leon to have struggled more. ...too bad Leon was so out of it. Would have liked a squirm or that sound they make when you sink your fangs in.
Ben was a monster whether he wanted to admit it or not. James could relate to monsters.
"I sent it," he told Mr. Cavanaugh, his expression not changing.