Snowed In With Death

by Ruby Loren

  Holly chewed her lip again, the gears in her head still turning. “It is time to call the police, but I’m not sure that the case has been solved. Will you allow me to continue my investigation until they arrive?”

  Mr Uppington-Stanley nodded, his eyes fixed on the emerald. “Feel free. The emerald is back, and that’s what matters,” he said and then walked out of the room, already shouting to the butler and chef to make sure Nick didn’t try anything.

  Holly was left in the empty box room with the strong feeling that she was missing something big. The phone call had been enough for her to figure out how the jewel was stolen, but she couldn’t work out how it had left the room. Her eyes were drawn once more to the door leading into the spare room and she began to wonder…

  “I’ve got it!” Holly announced, arriving back in the main room, her face flushed with pleasure. Everyone turned to look at her. She realised that Nick was already in handcuffs, the newly-arrived police having made the arrest immediately.

  “We’ll hear about it later. We have the emerald,” Mr Uppington-Stanley said, dismissing her, as he gestured to the police to take Nick away.

  Holly felt her temper rise. Why hire her if they didn’t want her opinion? “That would be a mistake,” she tried again. Mr Uppington-Stanley shot her a look of exasperation, but Holly hadn’t finished. “That emerald is a fake,” she announced, praying that she was correct. She hadn’t had time to test her theory, as she’d heard the police turn up and had known that time had run out.

  “If you’ll follow me up to the room where the jewel was kept, I think I can solve this mystery. Oh, and everyone should come,” she added.

  Oh please, please be right about this! Holly thought, as she led the odd group up the stairs, down the corridor, and into the spare room next to the box room where the emerald had been kept.

  “We’re not in the right room,” Mr Uppington-Stanley informed her, sounding deeply unimpressed. Holly ignored her wealthy employer and instead moved to the centre of the room, taking a deep breath.

  It was time to Miss Marple this mystery.

  “The first problem with this case was ‘how?’ How was it that the lock could be broken on the jewellery case without Nick the security guard hearing it? The obvious answer was that he did it himself when he was in the room unattended. I thought that was the most probable solution, until I noticed something in the maid’s bucket. A lot of people listen to music when they clean, and I could see she had a music player of some sort, but there was something off about it. It looked like it had a kind of external speaker - something which MP3 players don’t tend to have.”

  Holly paused and thanked her lucky stars that she’d done some Googling of the latest technology before she’d rushed off to the emerald case. Her lack of knowledge had let her down at Horn Hill House, but her research had paid off this time.

  “It just so happens, that I recently read an article about some new technology. It’s meant to still be theoretical, but I think it might have been used here. There is a device which can cancel out external noises by mimicking their frequencies and, therefore, eliminating them. The same applies to internal noises. This theoretical device could be used to create a personal bubble of silence, making it impossible for someone - even if they were very close by - to hear something like… a lock being smashed off a jewellery case,” Holly finished. She looked up at her listeners and was met with a bunch of frowns.

  “What?” one of the police officers asked, looking completely bamboozled.

  Holly resisted the temptation to sigh. “I made a call to a friend who then called on a contact who works for the Ministry Of Defence. They confirmed that the silencing technology does actually exist, it’s just not widely marketed yet. You’d have to be a specialist to get hold of it.” Holly’s eyes fell on the dark-haired maid. “How long have you worked here?”

  The maid made a noise of derision. “You’re really accusing me of this? The emerald was found in his hair gel!” she complained, and various voices around the room seemed to agree with her.

  Holly looked at the bucket she was still holding and frowned. “Where’s your MP3 player?”

  The maid frowned right back. “It’s right here,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket. Holly rubbed her temples. Great. The girl had managed to hide the device she’d seen, probably whilst waiting downstairs.

  “This detective you’ve hired is crazy,” the accused said, shaking her head.

  The police began to move towards the door, taking Nick with them. Holly momentarily reflected that this kind of stuff never happened to Miss Marple. She’d better get on with the big reveal.

  Well… what she hoped would be the big reveal.

  “I realised that it wasn’t possible to get the emerald out of the room through the door, as Nick would have found it when he searched the maid. We also know that he hadn’t left the room all day, because you have CCTV outside the door. So, how did the emerald leave the room when there were no windows and doors for it to get through?” Holly asked the audience, but none of them was in the mood for joining in. She ignored their mutterings and bent down on one knee, running her hands over the floorboards by the door, trying to ignore the bead of sweat sliding down her spine. Was she about to make a huge fool of herself?

  “Ah-ha!” she cried when her hand detected a loose board. She levered it up and discovered it slid completely out from under the door, leaving a handy hidey-hole that went from one room to the next. The removal of the board also revealed the real Enviable Emerald, glimmering in the dim light. Holly picked it up and held the remarkable jewel in the palm of her hand for all to see. She’d half-expected spontaneous applause, but there were only more surprised mutterings.

  “Well, how do we know who committed the crime now, and how do we know which emerald is real?” the very annoying DCI said.

  Holly tried not to grind her teeth in frustration. “If you go back downstairs and search the living room, I’m sure you’ll find the noise blocker that I was talking about. It should have enough fingerprints on it to close the case. Also, maybe you could run a search or two and find out who our maid here really is. That sort of technology and this kind of crime… it’s not the first jewel she’s stolen, that’s for sure.”

  “Yes, but, the emerald…” Mr Uppington-Stanley cut in, looking anxiously from one identical gem to the other.

  Holly had to keep her cool once more. They never wrote about all of this stubborn idiocy in the detective stories she read! Everyone was always suitably in awe of the detective’s brilliance.

  “Obviously you wouldn’t go to all the trouble to hide a fake jewel under the floorboards where no one is going to look! The fake jewel was planted where you’d be most likely to search, in order to frame Nick,” she explained.

  “But, the maid…” the policeman jumped in again, and Holly only just managed to stop herself from tearing her hair out.

  “Do some research! Find out if she’s been caught before. You’d better check the emerald as well for prints. Although, I, ah… touched it a bit,” she said, realising she’d made what had to be a very amateur error. “When you take the jewels to a jeweller, you’ll see,” she finished, hoping they’d finished their cross examination.

  “That doesn’t explain the fortuneteller, though…” Mrs Uppington-Stanley jumped in.

  Holly bit her lip. That was one mystery she hadn’t solved.

  “Who knows, perhaps she got lucky?” she offered.

  “Well, I suppose that’s that then,” Mr Uppington-Stanley concluded.

  * * *

  The End.

  Holly’s brow creased when she read the last couple of lines of her story. The ending was definitely a bit of a let down, but then, that’s what had really happened.

  The police had carted off both suspects for questioning because they’d had no faith in Holly’s investigation. One of the officers had even had the cheek to imply that she might have planned the whole thing herself! Fortunately, he’d s
topped talking when someone had whispered in his ear that she’d been a part of the Horn Hill House massacre. By default, the officer must have assumed she was a great detective - the same way her first proper employers had.

  She’d later been informed that the maid did have a criminal record. Further investigation had turned up her involvement in a number of high profile jewel thefts. Nick the security guard was released, and the maid was going be tried and sentenced for her attempted crime, and anything else the police could find and get to stick…

  Holly drained the last few dregs of her hot chocolate and thought about the cheque that had been couriered to her the day after she’d finished her investigation. That was something at least. She wondered what she’d do with the money. It meant she didn’t need to accept as many Christmas piano gigs.

  She’d started the season with the intention of turning down any booking that didn’t sound like it would be a good show, but the more she’d said no, the more people had asked. Ironically, people thinking she was in demand had actually made her far more popular. She smiled a little. She didn’t mind in the slightest.

  She was one of those lucky few people who thoroughly enjoy what they do to make a living. Playing piano was a true passion. She’d worked for many years to reach a very high standard, and she still longed to be better. There was always room for improvement.

  Her fingers spasmed indecisively for a moment, before she reached for her mobile phone, reluctantly searching through her address book. She dialled the number. It was answered after just two rings.

  “I knew you’d come around.” Rob Frost’s voice floated back down the line to her, with more than a hint of a gloat in it.

  Holly bit her lip.

  “Wait… that is why you called right? You have changed your mind?” Rob tried to clarify, ruining his cool-guy first line.

  Holly smirked. “I think so. I was reading back through the Enviable Emerald case and… it wasn’t so bad. Nobody died, and the mystery got solved. So, I was thinking, if I could just have a few more cases like that one… it wouldn’t be too dangerous. It should just be fun, right?” she said, and could almost hear Rob’s smile of triumph.

  “You’ve got the mystery-solving bug. I knew you wouldn’t quit on me! Now, about the profitable enterprise we’re poised to enter into…” He started to reel off a long list of things that Holly would need to do in order to set up her very own private detective business, endorsed by Rob Frost - the great private detective.

  Amazingly, Rob hadn’t wanted any money for his endorsement. He was doing it all as a favour in return for the time that Holly had saved his life using a rather deadly amateur detective novel.

  At least… she was pretty sure that was why he was helping her.

  Holly shook her head and took some more notes.

  Rob was based in Cornwall at the moment, searching for… something. He’d been vague about the details of the case he was supposedly working on. It meant that he wasn’t going to be popping by for tea anytime soon. Any romantic notions Holly might have had were quashed.

  “Just remember, you’re using my name in your business, so don’t screw it up!” Rob warned, but Holly knew he was grinning that beautiful smile of his. His dark hair was probably all mussed up as well, and…

  She stopped herself right there.

  “I’ll do my best. You’d better not do anything stupid either. We’re tied together now,” she said and immediately bit her tongue.

  Rob laughed. “Talk to you soon, Holly.”

  Holly stared at the mobile phone and sighed. Things had been so intense during the short time she’d spent at Horn Hill House, she hadn’t really had a chance to figure out how she felt about Rob. After they’d survived the ordeal and had dealt with the press together, there’d been a seed of friendship between them, which had grown into this business venture that Rob had practically pressured her into. Holly bit back a smile. She hadn’t needed much persuading.

  She’d sworn off mysteries after Horn Hill House, but the recent case of the Enviable Emerald had reminded her that solving mysteries didn’t have to be a terrifying pastime - and she was actually really good at it! Her vast knowledge of mystery books and their story-lines meant she was expecting most twists and turns and could always crack the case.

  This detective business wasn’t going to be serious anyway. She’d just pick up a few little mysteries, perhaps focusing on lost and found type cases, and the kind of thing that came up locally. Definitely no big crime and absolutely no murders.

  What could go wrong?

  The No.1 Ladies’ Detective Agency

  “I’ve rented a little office space, put up a sign, and placed adverts in the local paper and around town. I’ve designed a website and added the blog to it, so people can read all about the cases and find us online. I’ve even started a social media page,” she said into the phone.

  Her eyes flicked back to the Facebook page with its seriously unflattering profile picture of her. The only picture she had in any professional capacity was the one that had been taken by the press after the Horn Hill House massacre. Her hair was a horror wig, and walking miles in freezing temperatures - trying not to get blown up by landmines - had done nothing for her skin. She sighed and promised herself she’d solve another case soon - and this time it would be a far more glamorous occasion when the press arrived.

  “Cool, I like Facebook! I shall like your page…” Rob said on the other end of the phone.

  As Holly watched the screen, her little ‘like’ counter jumped from two to three. Rob had liked it, she’d liked it, and her sister had liked it, too. Although, knowing her sister, it was probably so she could see if the business failed.

  “Well, it’s a start,” Holly said, trying not to sound as unsure as she felt. “What should I do next?”

  There was an awkward pause.

  “Good question. I’ve never actually set up an agency before,” Rob admitted.

  Holly felt her stomach drop. “What?!”

  She’d assumed that Rob had known what he was talking about, having got years of experience and successful cases under his belt.

  “Mostly, I don’t get given cases. I just… sort of stumble upon them,” Rob admitted, and while Holly desperately wanted to ask exactly what he meant by that, now wasn’t the time.

  “So, I’m just your little experiment, am I?” Holly asked, feeling crosser by the second. This was so typical of Rob.

  “Hey, I’m funding this too,” he reminded her. “We’re both taking a risk.” There was a pause. “I don’t know… when I look at you, I just think of how perfect you’d be working as a detective in a little town… solving all of the missing cat cases.”

  “Now you’re just being a jerk,” she told him.

  Rob had the audacity to laugh. “Come on, lost cats make super hard cases! You can never predict what the little psychos will do next, which makes them hard to locate. I swear I wasn’t making fun… or even kidding. Most of your cases will probably be lost cats,” he said, his apology vanishing.

  Holly would have loved to be able to correct him, but the two cases she’d previously worked on in Little Wemley had involved a lost dog and the mayor’s chain - which had been stolen by the world’s worst thief and recovered almost immediately. Rob’s prediction was probably correct.

  “What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and wait for the phone to ring?” Holly griped.

  Rob was about to answer when the landline started to ring. Holly heard a snicker of amusement right before Rob put the phone down.

  The landline continued to ring. She stared at it for a couple more rings, before finally lifting up the receiver.

  “Hello, Holly Winter speaking,” she said and heard a rather surprised noise on the other end of the phone.

  “Oh, good. You’re who I wanted to speak to. I found your details online, and I wanted to invite you to an event I’m putting on. It’s a murder mystery night re-enactment of what happened at Horn Hill House. It woul
d be just brilliant if you could appear at the end and answer any questions our pretend detectives might have. It’s a charity event, so I’m afraid there’s no budget available for…”

  Holly put the phone down and shook her head in disbelief. How could anyone be dense enough to think that she’d want to be a part of some twisted re-enactment? That misguided organiser was giving the world of mystery-solving a bad name.

  She snorted when she recalled the last line about a lack of budget. She’d heard that old chestnut a fair few times. It was always the same with ‘charity events’. There was never any budget for the entertainment, but you knew that the bar would still be selling their drinks at a profit, and that pretty much everyone else at the event would still be getting paid.

  Holly sighed. She had nothing against charity - she even occasionally agree to take part in genuine charity events - but what had just been proposed to her on the phone was ludicrous and offensive.

  She frowned for a second and then decisively opened a Word document. Now that her agency was starting to become more visible, (although how, she wasn’t really sure) she would need to hire someone to deal with answering the phone. The only problem was, she didn’t have a huge budget herself. Holly ran her hands through her hair, well aware that she was dangerously close to becoming as unreasonable as the charity events organiser. Perhaps she could take on an apprentice and pay them minimum wage, and only as a part-timer. She had a bit of leeway afforded by the cheque she’d received for solving the Enviable Emerald case. All she needed was a few more of those and she’d be in profit and able to pay a secretary. After a moment’s further deliberation, she decided it was worth the risk. Someone else could deal with the cranks on the phone.

  Ten minutes later, she was out pinning up her adverts around town and had asked the local paper to place a job available ad. Now all there was to do was wait.

  And wait.

  Holly sat in her office for the entire day and no one came in.