Snowed In With Death

by Ruby Loren

  Holly glanced down at a copy of the book she’d used to save her life. It had felt right to find a normal edition and actually read the novel.

  She had to say, she was disappointed. The plot had been a perfect combination of twists and turns, but she’d already managed to figure out who the killer was, and she was only halfway through. If only things were that simple in real life. Looking back, there’d been next to no convenient clues to help them figure it out before the clock had gone down to zero. It really wasn’t fair.

  Another item was also on the front seat, hidden beneath the book. Her copy of one of the big broadsheets had her picture, blown up to a ridiculous size, on page two.

  It was typical that her one shot at fame was a terrible one. Her hair was a winter-weather fright, and she had bags beneath her eyes from the lack of sleep the night before at Horn Hill House. It was definitely not one to frame and put on the wall. Somehow, Rob had contrived to look great - despite being in a hospital bed and wearing a usually unflattering hospital gown. Life was definitely not fair.

  Holly shook her head as she neared Little Wemley. Things would be back to normal in no time. In a couple of weeks, this story would be forgotten. Holly would have returned to working as a professional pianist, putting her silly detective dreams behind her once and for all.

  Deep in the glove compartment her phone began to ring. Holly ignored it and kept driving. The phone went dead, but after a moment’s silence, it began to ring again. This time, she pulled over and answered.

  “Hello?” she said, wondering if it was the police looking for more answers. She thought she’d finished with all that.

  “Hello, Holly Winter? I’ve got a serious problem I think you may be able to help with. We suspect that my family’s most prized heirloom, the Enviable Emerald, is under threat from thieves. We’ve informed the police, of course, but they say there’s nothing they can do if a crime hasn’t yet been committed. We desperately need the help of a private detective. I’m hoping you can solve the case before the crime even takes place,” the man on the other end of the phone said.

  Holly’s immediate instinct was that it was all a prank. Her second was to put the phone down. Hadn’t she just said that she was absolutely not going to be sucked into the world of private investigating?

  “We’ll compensate you generously for your time. How does…” He said a number so large it made Holly’s mouth drop open a little. “…sound to you?”

  It was more than she’d make working for two months as a pianist - and that was with a full performance schedule!

  “You could stay in the house while you work on the case. I read all about your work up at Horn Hill House. I’m sure you can help us,” the man pressed.

  Holly found herself wavering.

  What was one little case involving a not-even-stolen emerald? She’d take the money and the case, and then that would be it. She would settle down again to her nice normal life in Little Wemley. No more Nancy Drew or Agatha Raisin delusions.

  Deep inside, she could already feel an itch of excitement as she contemplated the case she’d just accepted. Would she be able to find the thieves before they struck? Was there even a real threat to the emerald?

  This is your last adventure, she promised herself.

  Read on for the first two chapters of A Fatal Frost!

  A Fatal Frost

  The Enviable Emerald

  Holly looked out of the window of her rented cottage. A thick frost covered the field that her property backed onto. She felt a little sorry for the smattering of wild deer she could see, whose coats also glistened with frost in the first rays of sunshine.

  She stirred her breakfast hot chocolate - while she watched the deer graze on anything that wasn’t frozen solid - and thought about everything she had to do.

  Christmas was fast approaching. She’d almost entirely filled up her diary with piano bookings. From pantomimes to office parties, she was going to be very busy during the winter evenings.

  Unusually for Holly, her days were pretty busy, too.

  On her way back from the horrid happenings at Horn Hill House - where six of the country’s greatest detectives had been murdered - she’d received a call about a case. After getting home and thinking it through a bit more, she’d officially accepted and had dashed straight off to assist the Uppington-Stanley family with the perceived threat to their Enviable Emerald.

  Holly took another sip of her hot chocolate, made with real dark Belgian chocolate. There really was no better way to start the day, and being single, there was no one to judge her for it either.

  She sat down at her kitchen table and flipped her laptop open. After the drama at Horn Hill House, she’d decided it was high time she familiarised herself with a little more technology. In order to get to grips with it, she’d started a blog about the smattering of past mysteries she had solved.

  She told herself firmly that it was just so she’d have a way of looking back and remembering why it was such a bad and dangerous idea to become a private detective. However, the annoying little voice in her head whispered that having a blog would also be an excellent way for any potential clients to find out about her. Not to mention, it was fun writing the little stories. She only hoped that recounting them in third person wouldn’t be considered big-headed. All of her favourite mysteries were written that way, and she also thought there was no harm in pretending she had a very astute assistant - as opposed to being a one-woman band.

  “No more mysteries, remember?” Holly chided herself out loud, realising she was making grandiose plans for the future again. She opened up The Case of the Enviable Emerald and started to edit the beginning of the tale.

  The problem was, even with all of the resolve in the world, mysteries had a habit of finding her. The simple case of the Enviable Emerald had been no exception when an unexpected complication had transformed it into a full-blown mystery.

  Holly sighed a little as she stared at the text on the screen documenting her most recent adventure. Your final adventure, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. She copied and pasted it into a new post, clicked on ‘preview’, and began her final read-through.

  * * *

  The Case of the Enviable Emerald

  A Holly Winter Mystery

  * * *

  The first mystery to solve in the case of the Enviable Emerald was why did the Uppington-Stanley family believe their priceless heirloom was under threat? It was unusual for a thief to be considerate enough to give their targets a handy heads-up. Uncovering the truth about why the family even suspected an attempt was imminent was the first thing Holly planned to do upon her arrival at Enviable Manor.

  Enviable Manor was every bit as grand as it sounded. The walls had been crafted from grey sandstone, and the building had softened and weathered throughout the centuries. It still retained its original magnificence - the sign of a splendid architect.

  After parking her car (which had been complaining ever since it had been left out in a Scottish blizzard) she walked up to the manor and rapped on the door, using the curiously elephant-shaped knocker - its trunk the moveable piece. A maid opened the door and she was invited in for afternoon tea with the Uppington-Stanleys. Despite being pleased by her timing and more pleased by the scones, cream, jam, and teas that were served, Holly knew that her burning question couldn’t wait. Therefore, she only allowed herself a conservative three scones, piled high with mounds of cream and jam, before she asked why the Uppington-Stanleys thought that a theft was imminent.

  It transpired that the wealthy family had visited their local Christmas fair, taking their children - Isabelle and Nick - with them. Both ‘children’ were in their twenties and had decided to visit the fortuneteller, who’d set up between the church’s booze tombola and the Brownies’ sweet stall. Holly had privately wondered about the wisdom of this stall placement on the part of the fair organisers.

  The junior Uppington-Stanleys had entered the fortuneteller’s tent, one after th
e other, and had both received the same warning: Your family’s most prized heirloom is under threat. Defend your inheritance, or all will be lost, and you will suffer from misfortune forever.

  “We found this a bit disconcerting,” Mr Uppington-Stanley said, his eyebrows twitching up and down as he alternated between dismay and forced politeness at the number of scones the hired detective had managed to put away.

  “Yes, it seemed awfully specific. We’re sensible folk and don’t believe in any claptrap fortune-telling nonsense, but this seemed like a genuine threat. After our children told us what they’d heard, we tried to find the fortuneteller, but she’d already gone, and the fair organisers had no contact details for her.” Mrs Uppington-Stanley wrung her hands - most likely because of her fears about the emerald, but also possibly because Holly had started on the fairy cakes, and they were disappearing at an alarming rate.

  “But if the fortuneteller was involved with jewel robbers, how does it benefit her to pre-warn her targets?” Holly mused.

  The married couple shook their heads and tried not to look at the crumbs, which were all that remained of their afternoon tea.

  “We’re baffled by it. Either the woman knew something and perhaps wanted to warn us as a way of getting back at a person who had done her wrong, or she could be a complete crank who just happened to know about the family jewels. They’re quite famous,” Mr Uppington-Stanley said with a completely straight face.

  Holly tried not to choke on her final fairy cake.

  “Well, you seem to have thought about the options,” Holly observed, wondering what, exactly, they wanted her to do. Her lips twisted as she inwardly wrestled with the large figure the family had agreed to pay her for the job she was supposed to be doing and the simplicity of the task at hand.

  “I should probably come up and have a look at the emerald and review your security measures. Then I’ll be able to deduce if there could be any risk of theft,” she said, not sure what else she was supposed to do.

  The wealthy pair nodded agreeably.

  Mrs Uppington-Stanley led her upstairs. They walked down a lengthy corridor, luxuriously carpeted with light-cream pile, the dark wood panels on the walls adding to the air of expense. Holly immediately felt guilty for keeping her shoes on.

  “Here we are!” her guide announced, knocking on a panelled door that almost looked like part of the wall. Holly noted that it would be difficult for a casual thief to find the location of the emerald. They’d have to be an insider. Her employer pointed to a CCTV camera that had its lens permanently focused on the door - another security measure.

  “Hello Mrs Uppington-Stanley,” a man said, unlocking the door from the inside and letting the pair in.

  “This is our full-time security guard, Nick. He stays in the room all day everyday, until he swaps with Lewis, our night watchman. Nick never leaves this room,” Mrs Uppinton-Stanley announced, rather proudly.

  Holly looked around the room and nodded vaguely. To her, the idea of employing a full-time security guard just to look after one jewel equated to some serious overkill, but she supposed if you had enough money, and possessed something as valuable and irreplaceable as the Enviable Emerald, it might be worth it.

  “I have to admit, it seems as though you have the situation under control,” Holly said, looking around the box room, which didn’t even have a window. She hoped Nick was being well-compensated for what must be a very boring job.

  “Yes, well… we thought it best to check,” Mrs Uppington-Stanley said, slightly flushed from Holly’s professional approval.

  Holly tried not to feel like a complete fraud. She’d only really solved a couple of small cases and had barely managed to escape with her life from the Horn Hill House incident. That didn’t really qualify her for professional consulting, but the Uppington-Stanley’s offer had been so tempting…

  “I’d better show you the emerald while we’re up here. Just in case there is something we might have forgotten,” Mrs Uppington-Stanley said, opening the drawer by the bed and pulling out a generic looking jewellery box covered in faded, dark-pink suede. The only thing that stood out about it was the rather flimsy lock, which was broken and hanging off at an angle.

  Holly was about to ask if it was supposed to look damaged - as a sort of red herring - when Mrs Uppinton-Stanley’s hands fumbled with the lid and flipped open the tall case to reveal… nothing at all.

  The emerald was gone.

  “No… NO! It can’t be!” Mrs Uppington-Stanley wailed.

  Holly heard the sound of running footsteps and Mr Uppington-Stanley appeared, his face morphing into a mask of horror when he heard the news.

  “Tell me quickly, when was the last time you saw the emerald?” Holly asked, hoping the pair wouldn’t dissolve into hysteria. It seemed to her that if the crime had only just been committed, there was a chance that the thief could still be apprehended.

  “This morning. I took it out to show it to a visiting colonel over breakfast, but I put it straight back in its case and locked it with this key,” Mrs Uppington-Stanley held up the dainty key. “You saw me do it, didn’t you, Nick?”

  The big security guard nodded. His, dark, expressionless face looked untroubled by the news. Holly supposed it was a professional requirement that he stayed calm in a crisis. She herself felt anything but calm. The gears in her head were already spinning as she felt time - and the emerald - slipping away from her.

  “Let us assume the jewel was returned safely to the jewellery box. After all, the lock has been smashed, which implies that the emerald was taken from the drawer. Has anyone else but Nick been in this room since this morning? Anyone else at all?” she asked.

  The Uppington-Stanleys shook their heads and then stopped and exchanged a glance.

  “Only the maid, but she is watched by Nick. Nick himself hasn’t left the room. Well, apart from attending to calls of nature. Even that facility is actually still in this room,” Mr Uppington-Stanley explained, pointing to a small corner, which had been partitioned off and presumably contained a toilet.

  “Is the maid still here at the manor? It’s important that we speak to her if she and Nick were the only ones with access to the room.”

  Mrs Uppington-Stanley flapped her hands uselessly for a few more seconds and then trotted off, hopefully to find the maid.

  Holly could have sworn that Mr Uppington-Stanley shot her a grateful look.

  “Did you go to the bathroom while the maid was in here?” she asked the security guard. He nodded, a little mournfully. Holly chewed her lip, looking again at the broken lock. Despite not being a very convincing lock, smashing it violently would have made some noise. She doubted that it could have been done without Nick hearing it.

  “I was only in there for a couple of minutes. The maid was still cleaning when I came out. I know she hadn’t left the room because I lock the door after everyone who comes in,” Nick explained.

  Holly looked pointedly at the currently open door. The guard shrugged. “Everyone apart from my employers, of course,” he explained, like she was an idiot.

  “What about this door?” Holly asked, noticing a rather ordinary looking cream door set in the wall by the sofa.

  “It’s always kept locked. I’m the only one with the key,” Mr Uppington-Stanley patiently explained.

  Holly looked it up and down and noticed that the bottom of the door was nearly flush to the bare-wood floor. “How big is the emerald?”

  Mr Uppington-Stanley put his first fingertip against the tip of his thumb, forming a circle. Holly dismissed the possibility that it could have been passed under the door.

  “Excuse me? What is the matter?” A young, dark-haired woman, with a surprisingly clipped British accent, entered the room, followed by a still-distraught Mrs Uppington-Stanley.

  “You’re the maid who cleaned this room earlier today?” Holly asked. The young woman nodded to confirm. She still held her basket of cleaning supplies, presumably from the job she had still been
doing.

  “May I?” Holly asked as a courtesy and quickly glanced through the supply bucket.

  Nick shook his head. “It can’t be in there. She doesn’t bring much into the room. She just hoovers and dusts and listens to her music the whole time. The hoover is a little handheld thing that’s entirely see-through. It wasn’t even being used while I was in the toilet. Also, I search her when she leaves,” he said, still sounding like he was explaining this to a person who was short of brain cells.

  Holly tried not to be goaded… but failed. “From the evidence I’ve been presented with, I think it’s obvious that one of you committed - or at least aided in - the theft of the emerald. The question is, which one of you was it, and where is the emerald now? Until I know that, no one must leave this house,” she said, putting her foot down.

  “Have you got any leads?” Mrs Uppington-Stanley asked, her expression in danger of dissolving into tears at any second. Holly suspected it was only the time it took to apply her artful makeup that was making her think twice about it.

  Holly tried to nod more confidently than she felt. “I need to make a call,” she said, praying that her hunch turned out to be right.

  She’d only just finished the call when she heard a shout and raced back along the hall to the box room. Mr Uppington-Stanley stood with the Enviable Emerald in his hand. A small carry case, that must have belonged to the security guard, was open on the floor. Globs of hair gel splattered the floorboards and the surface of the emerald.

  “Mystery solved! I think it’s time we called the police. Our security guard is a jewel thief!” Mr Uppington-Stanley announced, his eyebrows knitted together in fury. “The butler and the chef are keeping a close eye on him. That slippery man! He had such good references, too,” he added with a sigh, the fury being replaced with disappointment. “I suppose the temptation just got too much.”