by I H Laking
“Seems that someone around here isn’t afraid of the dark,” said Ambrose as he led the way down.
The vault certainly was a dark place. Gaslights were burning every few metres on the right hand wall, but they failed to cast much light into the dusty gloom that filled the long corridor. On the left wall was the real reason that someone had wanted to get inside.
Every few metres, opposite a torch, there was a curved cavity in the wall containing a Mech. Both Percy and Cooper let out a few gasps as they traipsed along the corridor, following the footprints. Each Mech was a work of art. Here was housed much of the experimental work of Archibald Aurelious, one of the greatest Artisans of all time. No one before or since had matched his imagination and design abilities. Ambrose pondered the fact that such a treasure trove was so easily broken in to, but there was no point dwelling on it, he decided.
Each Mech the group walked past had never been activated, so they simply stood there, lacking a Life-Spark and staring into the distance. All of the Mechs had a serial number written above their cavity, with a note below it.
Some of the Mechs were clearly meant to be reused but had never been touched: “4-5-4 Prototype. Send for further testing.”
Whilst others were more concerning: “Juggernaut influence. Request immediate cessation of production.”
Or strange: “Promoto-Araya. Translation matrix failure.”
After what seemed like an age, the footprints finally came to a halt beside a cavity in the wall – the only empty space in the entire vault. The sign above it read: “Sosie Model. Extraneous to requirements.” Ambrose whirled around and faced Anthony, whose face had dropped as he surveyed the scene; there on the ground were marks in the dust where a Mech had stood for years, but was now missing.
Ambrose cleared his throat. “Well young man. It seems you’ve had a burglary.”
A clap of thunder rolled across the sky outside Inspector Ambrose’s house. Night had fallen, and the rain had returned. It was been a frustrating afternoon once they discovered the stolen Mech, and now he was trying to pull together the loosely hanging threads that surrounded this mystery. Percy had made his way home to have some dinner, and Ambrose had made a list of all the things that he needed to consider, which now sat in front of him on the dining room table.
The gaslights burned quietly all around the Inspector as he attempted to finally solve the mystery. Lightning flashed outside the window. Thunder rolled again. Ambrose looked at the list:
What Went Wrong with Mrs Milliard’s Mech?
-Mrs Milliard is selling her business.
-Her Mech, Morris, has stopped making pies properly.
-Morris is happy, and thinks he’s making the pies correctly.
-Business is going to drop in the area if the pie shop closes.
-Mrs Milliard sent Cooper to find out more information at the workshop.
-The workshop was broken into, and a Mech was somehow stolen.
-If Morris doesn’t remember how to make the pies, Mrs Milliard will be forced to sell the business for a very low price, and will be financially ruined.
-Mr Button doesn’t like want to lose the business the pie shop brings in.
-Bernie from the residents association is a smug pickpocket
-Mrs Trump is nosy.
Ambrose stopped. It was as if the final cog had ticked over, and the solution was clear. He knew who was behind all this, and he had a strong feeling he knew how they had done it. Wasting no time at all, he stood up, grabbed his coat and headed for the door. The lightning flashed around him as he ran down the road towards his partner’s house.
It was time to put an end to the mystery of Mrs Milliard’s Mech.
By the time that Inspector Ambrose, Detective Percy, and a bedraggled Cooper had assembled outside Mrs Milliard’s shop, it was nearing midnight. Percy knocked on the door, and soon enough, Mrs Milliard opened it – she looked surprised to see them all, explaining that she had all but given up hope of solving the issue with Morris. She ushered everyone into the back room, where Mr and Mrs Trump were seated, just as Ambrose had expected. With everyone present, he began to explain what he thought had gone wrong with Morris.
“Thank you everyone, for coming out in this weather – though I believe that Mr and Mrs Trump were going to be here anyway, correct?”
They nodded.
“This has been a tricky case, because many people have withheld important information at key moments,” Ambrose continued. “For instance, Mrs Milliard mentioned she would be selling her business, and that the sale would be complete tonight. She failed to mention that she would be selling the business to you, Mr and Mrs Trump.” The Trumps looked somewhat uncomfortable with the discovery, whilst the others in the room appeared genuinely surprised.
“It was sensitive information.” Mrs Milliard said “Please forgive me, I did not wish to do anything to jeopardise this sale further. We were about to sign the papers for a substantially reduced sale price.” She dropped her head.
“I understand,” said Ambrose. “But there is now no need to take such drastic action – when you are ready to sell this business, you can do so for the full price, and no less. For I have figured out what is wrong with Morris.”
Mrs Milliard’s eyes opened wide in shock. “You have!?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what is it?! What’s wrong with him?” she asked.
“Nothing.” Ambrose replied, allowing himself a smile for the first time since this case began.
The people in the room stared at him expectantly. “I could tell you my theory, but I believe it’s better to show you instead,” Ambrose said. “Let us head down into the kitchen, and I will reveal the answer.”
Everyone filed down into the kitchen, where they found Morris standing, patiently waiting for the next day’s work to begin.
Ambrose began to expound on his theory. “When we first started this case, I found it hard to believe that a Mech could ever forget its purpose; the job it was designed to do. But after meeting Morris, a Mech who has apparently done that, I had to admit it seemed like this was the case.” He took a step towards the Mech.
“But after the events of this afternoon, and a great deal of thought, I have realised the piece of information I was missing was right in front of me the whole time.”
Ambrose wheeled around to face the group.
“This Mech,” he announced, “is not Morris.”
Silence hung over the group. The only person to break it was Mrs Trump.
“That’s ridiculous! We agreed to the purchase of this business on the basis that he came with it,” she said, pointing a pudgy finger at the Mech. I
n response, Ambrose pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “I had the assistants at the workshop investigate the construction of Morris: how he was assembled, and what the process was to design him. Thankfully, Archibald Aurelious was not only a brilliant Artisan, but also a fastidious note-taker – not unlike Percy here,” Ambrose said, nodding at Percy as he continued his furious scribbling.
“This is what he wrote during the process of creating Morris,” Ambrose said, beginning to read from the paper: “As the creation of a Mech with a memory for something so specific has not been tested before, I have decided that it is best to create two prototypes, and to choose the one that masters technique the best to give to the Milliard family.”
Ambrose looked up at Mrs Trump. “You were the focus of my thoughts once I realised that this was not Morris. I had to think, who had a motive to see this place crumble? Who would benefit from Mrs Milliard’s Mech no longer being here? And it is clear that you, the person who was agreeing to purchase this shop, had the perfect motive.”
Mr Trump looked like he was about to explode. “I BEG YOUR PARDON!” he thundered, and was about to continue when Cooper laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Mr Trump immediately dropped his voice to a quiet mutter.
Mrs Trump took up the case. “That’s completely absurd! Even if your rid
iculous suggestion turned out to be true, you have no evidence – and there’s no way we’re capable of switching a Mech over like that. We’re not thieves, we’re shop owners!” She stared defiantly at Ambrose.
“You are correct, of course,” Ambrose agreed ,“and that is why there is one more important piece of evidence we must all see. For motive is simply not enough – you must have opportunity. And what better opportunity than this,” he looked over at the far side of the kitchen, and motioned for Cooper to follow him.
Ambrose and Cooper reached the far wall, where there was a slight discolouration of the panelling. Ambrose pointed to a board that appeared loose at the base of the wall. As Cooper reached down and pulled on it, there was a great groan, and a large part of the wall detached easily. Cooper moved it to the side, revealing a short passageway leading to a small room.
“Shall we?” Ambrose as moved into the hidden passage.
Mr Trump was about to say that we shan’t, but he noticed Percy had now closed off the trapdoor exit. Begrudgingly, he and Mrs Trump filed into the passage behind Ambrose and a very shocked Mrs Milliard.
As they stepped out into the room at the end of the passage, Mrs Milliard gave a squeal at the sight before her. There in the dimly lit room was Bernie from the residents association, together with Anthony the Artisan Assistant, who looked shocked to see anyone coming out of the corridor.
And in the corner stood a Mech that was the spitting image of the one in the kitchen just a short distance away.
“MORRIS!” Mrs Milliard shouted a joyful exclamation, instantly realising what she was seeing. Morris waved and stood up, clearly ready to get back to work after being kept in the basement across the road for so long.
Mrs Milliard turned to face Mr and Mrs Trump. “I cannot believe that you would do this! After all these years of knowing one another!”
The trumps were clearly defeated, but Mrs Trump still shot back “Well you never shared your success! We were always second best! All I ever wanted was to not have to live off the people who came here to share in your fame. I wanted to be the best!” She turned to face Ambrose. “I admit to it all. Are you happy now?! After we tunnelled into the kitchen and found this Mech, we searched for a way to destroy it. What we found was his twin instead! But how could you possibly have known?” she asked.
“Once I realised that you had the motive, I simply followed the trail,” Ambrose said. “You were comfortable enough to allow a known thief into your shop, for a start. On top of that, you were closely positioned to this edge of Mrs Milliard’s large kitchen. Finally, there was something that I found at the Artisan worship this evening before I came here that confirmed everything.”
Ambrose pulled out one last piece of paper, the final diary entry from the creation of Morris.
“I have decided to name the Mech Morris. The counterpart, or the failure if you will, shall be known as Boris. I will keep him in the vault in case there is ever a need for a second working model to be adjusted and created. His nature will be such that life in the vault will not affect his Life-Spark.”
Ambrose walked over to Morris and reached up behind his head. Feeling for the letters that spelt his name, he found M… O… R… R… I… S. Ambrose then turned back to the Trumps. “By erasing some of the letters on Boris’ head, you removed any doubt for most people,” he said. “Only the diary of Archibald Aurelious was able to prove what you had done.”
The Trumps looked shocked; their plan was now utterly in ruins. Both Bernie and Anthony could also tell that their part in stealing Boris was about to spell the end of their respective careers in the residents association and Aurelious Artisan Workshops.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Percy informed the four conspirators of their arrest. Within a few moments, Detective Percy Portland was marching the criminals to C. P. F. headquarters, where he looked forward to writing a full report, based on his comprehensive notes. Cooper accompanied them to ensure no problems arose during the walk across town.
Ambrose, meanwhile, found himself alone with Mrs Milliard, who was rather emotional after such a long day. There was still much to be done to get things back to normal in the bakery, but she was relieved to finally get to the bottom of what had gone wrong with Morris.
Tears of joy flooded Mrs Milliard’s cheeks as she shook Ambrose’s hand enthusiastically. “How can I thank you enough?” she said.
Ambrose was once again struggling with the wave of emotion before him, and found himself lost for words and quite unsure as to what to say next. Eventually, he smiled and said “I wouldn’t trouble you for anything Mrs Milliard, just let us know when we can come by and taste another of your delicious pies.”
Mrs Milliard beamed, but instead of calming down, she threw her arms around Inspector Ambrose and gave him a big hug, promising him free pies whenever the fancy took him. The best Ambrose could do was to smile and thank her for her generosity.
Eventually, Ambrose managed to extract himself from Mrs Milliard’s bakery and her overwhelming show of emotion. He shut the door as he left and stepped out into the cold night air.
After a moment’s pause, Ambrose looked up at the pale moon above him and sighed a deep, satisfied sigh. Once again, he and Percy had solved a case just in the nick of time.
With a flourish, Ambrose placed his hat firmly on his head and started walking home. He couldn’t help but wonder what would come across his path next.
And with that, the case of Mrs Milliard’s Mech was solved.
A short note from the Author.
Thank you for reading this Inspector Ambrose story. If you enjoyed this story, please take a moment to leave a review at your favourite retailer – reviews really help independent authors like myself. Or you can make my day by sharing this story with a friend so they can discover the magic of the Empire.
Thanks!
I H Laking
Inspector Ambrose will return in
The Vanishing Villa
&
The Murder at Mansfield Manor
