by Gigi Pandian
Twenty-five minutes.
I eyed the stranger’s suitcase. It couldn’t hurt to take a closer look inside. The woman who owned this vintage suitcase had taken good care of it, and she’d taken good care of the contents of the suitcase as well. At least ten carefully folded 1960s-style dresses lay before me. I didn’t recognize any of the names on the labels, but these were stylish clothes. A polka-dot polyester dress, a gingham dress suit, a tennis outfit…I could never pull off any of these.
But what about this one? I pulled out a gorgeous black dress with embroidered white details. It was a little big for me, but not too bad. It came with a dainty white belt that cinched the waist. This might just work.
I had black high heels with me. At my height, they were my standard shoes, so I’d worn these stilettos on the flight. I slipped into the dress and stepped into my shoes. I glanced at my scruffy messenger bag lying on the bed. It wouldn’t do. The open suitcase lay next to my bag. A shiny white clutch made of vinyl was tucked into the side of the suitcase.
A knock sounded at my door.
“Jaya,” Daniella’s voice called through the door. “Clayton felt bad for us with the theft, so he’s sent a car to take us to the party. It’s waiting.”
I grabbed the clutch with my wallet and phone, and was out the door.
Downstairs, a gold Bentley waited to escort us to the castle. Astrid was already in the back when Daniella and I climbed inside to the plush seats.
Astrid wore a strapless red dress that went down to her ankles with a slit that went up to her thigh. Her long blonde hair fell over her bare shoulders with a hint of curl. “Your dress is the wrong size,” she said to me.
I glared at her. “Long story.”
“Astrid is a model,” Daniella said. Aside from redness of her eyes giving away she’d been crying, Daniella looked like she could have been a model that night as well. I’d never known her to dress up more formally than jeans and a t-shirt when she wasn’t on stage, but tonight she wore a form-fitting silver dress with gold ankle boots. Her short brown hair was spiked stylishly.
“Used to be,” Astrid corrected Daniella. “I used to be a model.”
“Your outfit,” I said to Daniella. “Publicity for your play?”
“Do you like it?” she asked.
Before I could answer, Astrid cut in, “Nobody will notice you’re wearing gold and silver because of the play, because nobody cares about the play. There are too many performances at the festival. We should have stayed in London.”
With that start to the evening, I was relieved the drive to Clayton’s castle took only fifteen minutes. It took longer to drive from my apartment to my university in San Francisco. The castle was in the Edinburgh metro area, right off the A7 freeway.
Edinburgh was a northern enough city that the sun was still high in the sky late into the evening, so for the whole drive I had a perfect view of my surroundings from the window of the luxurious back seat. As soon as the chauffer pulled off the freeway, all evidence of the twenty-first century disappeared. We were swallowed up by a grove of evergreen trees. A bright blue river ran along the side of the winding road. The car slowed as the road and river curved. In a clearing of trees, the turret of a castle overlooked the river.
The Bentley turned off the road and drove up a circular drive; the red stone castle came into full view. I relaxed a little. Though it was a castle, it was mansion-sized rather than football-stadium-sized. I gripped the white clutch in my hand and took a deep breath. I might not be able to handle a gala at a castle, but I could handle a party at a mansion.
I couldn’t help shivering while I walked from the car to the castle. It wasn’t my nerves. The fickle Scottish weather had turned the crisp breeze from earlier in the day into a full-blown arctic wind.
Champagne flowed freely as guests milled around the grand room of the castle. Tapestries lined two walls. One of the intricately woven pieces of art featured a phoenix rising out of the flames, another a black dragon surrounded by flying pelicans and other winged creatures.
Two winding staircases led from the grand ballroom up to a balcony overlooking the party. On the balcony, a single framed painting stood on an easel. It was this painting that was being used to raise money that evening. A modern painter who critics were praising had painted a scene of Edinburgh Fringe street performers. The painting was being given away as part of a charity raffle that evening. The cost to enter the raffle was £5,000 per ticket.
I spotted Clayton shortly after arriving. He wore a black tuxedo with gold-colored wingtips and a top hat made of gold cloth. When he saw me, he came over and asked if I was doing a good job forgetting about the theft and distracting Daniella from her anxiety about Izzy. I assured him his party was doing a good job helping us both forget our worries.
Astrid had been swept away by a man claiming to be a duke of some sort, and Daniella and I were talking with an elderly couple who’d heard about Daniella’s play and were intrigued. Astrid’s gloomy prediction hadn’t come to pass. They weren’t the first people who had come up to Daniella to ask about her show.
“The chess set in Fool’s Gold is both literal and figurative,” Daniella was telling them. “The play is set in the neighborhood I grew up in. The wrong side of the tracks, as my American friend Jaya here would say. The characters Catriona and Alexis were best friends as kids. Catriona’s father taught her how to play chess when she was a little girl, before he was killed in an industrial accident. Catriona taught Alexis how to play, and the two of them grew up with chess as their escape. Even though chess meant the most to Catriona, it was Alexis who had the real aptitude for it. She’s the one who was able to make it out of there. She got a scholarship to university, leaving Catriona behind. The title Fool’s Gold is based on the chess term ‘fool’s mate,’ and the gold represents both their friendship and a special chess set they use.”
“That’s nice, dear,” the elderly woman said with a thick brogue. “But what about the theft?”
Daniella’s face fell. News had leaked that the chess set had been stolen, which was turning out to be even better publicity than showing the gold and silver chess set at the Scottish festival in the first place. She smiled and told them the investigation was ongoing. but she hoped they’d enjoy the show.
“Doesn’t anyone care about my play?” she said to me once they’d moved on, downing the last of her third champagne.
“If the news stories get them to come to your play,” I said, “then who cares if that’s the thing that gets them in the door?”
“Oh God,” she said, picking up another champagne from a passing waiter. “What if the police think one of us did this for publicity?”
It wasn’t a crazy idea. But I didn’t have time to respond before Astrid joined us.
“He wasn’t a real duke,” Astrid said. “Can you believe it? He’s only distantly related to one.”
“What about that new guy you said you were seeing?” Daniella asked her.
“What guy?”
“You took a break from rehearsal yesterday morning to call him.”
Astrid stared blankly at Daniella. “Oh yes,” she said finally. “Him.”
But it was a moment too late. She was lying.
TEN
“You forgot you were dating someone?” I asked Astrid.
“You were gushing about him yesterday,” Daniella said, followed by a small hiccup.
“Are you two the good-girlfriend police?” Astrid said, her bright red lips set in a pout. “There’s got to be some real royalty here somewhere. I’ll leave you two prudes to yourselves.”
She stormed off, several men turning to watch her as she walked by.
“What’s the matter with her?” Daniella asked.
“How well do you know her?” I asked.
“You think Astrid stole the chess set?” She shook her head. “But I w
as with her.”
“She could have hired someone.”
“She doesn’t have that much imagination,” Daniella said. “Oh God! That sounded awful, didn’t it? Maybe I’ve had too many of these.” She set her empty champagne class on a nearby side table. “No, I know Astrid can be difficult, but she’s not a criminal.”
The rest of the party was a bust. Astrid didn’t manage to ingratiate herself to royalty. Daniella drank far too much. I felt self-conscious in my ill-fitting dress. Back at the hotel, I had to squeeze out the rest of the contents of the clutch to find the key to my room. How did women use these things? When I pushed open the door, my breath caught in my throat. The light of the room was on. I was certain I’d left it off.
“It’s about time,” Sanjay said.
“You were about this close to getting my knee in a very uncomfortable place.” I flung my key at him. I wasn’t surprised that he caught it. It disappeared from sight in the palm of his hand.
“You didn’t leave me a choice.” Sanjay placed the rematerialized key on the bed stand and sat down in the one chair in the small room. “You weren’t answering your cell.”
Sanjay was still wearing his tuxedo from his performance. His bow tie hung loose around his neck, and his bowler hat rested on the bed stand.
“My phone barely fit in this little clutch. I thought if I opened it I’d never get it shut again.”
“You own a clutch? What happened to the messenger bag that goes everywhere with you?”
“It’s not mine. I found it in the suitcase. I didn’t think my bag would fit in at the gala.”
“You’re stealing from this poor woman’s suitcase?”
“Borrowing,” I said. “Where do you think I got this dress? But I bet she’s drinking the American whiskey I brought as a gift for Daniella and having the historical letter appraised.”
Sanjay leaned back on his elbows and watched me.
“What?” I said, smoothing out the dress. “Do I have a big chunk of lint on me? God, please don’t tell me I’ve got remnants of canapé stuck in my teeth.”
“You were eating canapé? Where’s Jaya and what have you done with her?”
“Very funny.”
Sanjay shook his head slowly but didn’t say anything. “I was admiring your dress,” he said finally. “You look…”
“Silly?” I said, slipping off my heels and flinging them into the corner of the small room. “I know. It’s not really my style.”
“That’s not the word I was thinking of,” Sanjay said. “Stunning is more like it. You look absolutely stunning.”
“In this?” I looked down at the vintage black and white dress. “It’s all wrong for my shape.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you don’t know how to take a compliment?”
“It’s hardly a fair assessment coming from a good friend.”
Sanjay cleared his throat. “Why don’t you dress like that more often?”
“This dress doesn’t exactly say ‘authority figure.’ I start teaching in two weeks. I can’t very well go around looking like a nightclub singer.”
“I don’t know. It has its charm. So who is this woman you stole it from?”
“Borrowed,” I corrected him. “I have no idea. She didn’t answer the phone number tucked into the suitcase. But she has great taste. The case was full of dresses like this.”
I gave a little pirouette. Sanjay laughed.
“Sounds like your show went well,” I said.
“Even better than expected. A woman fainted.”
“Oh no!”
“That’s a good thing,” Sanjay said.
“It is?”
“Weren’t you paying attention earlier?” he asked.
“Apparently not.”
“You were supposed to be scared when the whisky barrel caught fire with me inside it. I cut short the effect when you were there, but with the fully drawn-out presentation, I was brilliant.” He grinned as I rolled my eyes.
“What about that poor woman?” I asked.
“She’s fine. She came to as soon as Ewan gave her smelling salts. The diversion allowed me to heighten the drama of the illusion.”
“I’m sure she’s traumatized.”
“That’s what people pay to see. If people didn’t think I was truly putting my life at risk, I wouldn’t sell out nearly as many shows as I do. Why do you think Houdini was so famous? He was a mediocre illusionist, but he understood the value of drama. Close-up magic baffled him, but give him the grand venue of an outdoor stage with a challenge to escape from a straitjacket while hanging upside down hundreds of feet above a crowd, and the public ate it up. But enough about my sell-out performance.” He paused. “That’s not why I’m here. How did the gala go?”
“No fainting was involved,” I said, “but Daniella did get fall-down drunk. And even more interesting—Astrid is hiding something.”
I sat down on the bed and tucked my legs under me. I went over the little I’d learned about the publicity for both the play and the chess set growing exponentially because of the press surrounding the theft, and I thought about Astrid lying about whatever she had to do away from the group the morning before the theft took place.
“Interesting,” Sanjay said.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say? Aren’t you going to say something about turning Astrid over to the police for the third degree?”
“That,” Sanjay said, “would be jumping the gun.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. After glancing briefly at the screen, he put it back and looked up at me. “It’s late enough,” he said.
“Late enough for what? I’m too wound up to sleep. My sneakers are in my missing suitcase so I haven’t been able to go running, so I doubt I’ll ever sleep again.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Let’s go check out the room.”
“You’re not serious. The scene of the crime? I’m sure it’s off limits.”
“Of course I’m serious. How else are we going to solve this?”
“I’m sure the police have the room locked up.”
Sanjay’s forehead crinkled as he raised his eyebrows.
“Right,” I said with a sigh. “The lock of that room won’t be much different from this one.”
“Exactly. You think I let myself into your room for kicks? The hotel is booked, so I needed to practice on a door to a room I knew was empty.”
“How long did it take you?”
Sanjay cleared his throat. “Let’s not sit around discussing the details of how long it took to open what should have been a straightforward lock.”
“Touchy, touchy.”
“I’ve got jet lag.” He yawned. “At least this hotel is proud enough of its historic roots that it still uses real old-fashioned keys. Those modern key cards aren’t nearly as easy to break into with the set of skills I’ve got at my disposal.”
“I’ll remember that the next time I book a hotel room.”
“Shall we?” Sanjay said.
I hesitated.
“You can either leave this to the police and see your friends go to jail,” Sanjay said, “or we can take a look.”
“I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?”
“If you don’t come with me, I’ll do it on my own.”
“Let me change,” I said.
Sanjay’s face fell. “Can’t you go in that?”
“This is hardly cat burglar attire.”
“Exactly. It’s the perfect cover. If we’re caught, our excuse is that we’ve just come from one of the festival’s parties and we’re drunk. That way we’ll only get a drunk-and-disorderly warning—or whatever its British equivalent is—rather than being charged with what we’re really up to.”
I opened my mouth but Sanjay kept speaking.
&nbs
p; “But we’re not going to get caught,” he said. “Especially with you as my lookout. Coming?”
I picked up the white clutch, slipped my heels back on, and followed Sanjay out the door.
“Three minutes, forty-two seconds,” Sanjay said.
I turned toward him from where I stood a few paces away in the hallway, holding my heels in my hand and trying to look tipsy to anyone who might see us skulking around the burgled room. Sanjay turned the handle and opened the door.
The room was completely dark. We locked the door behind us and Sanjay turned on the light.
“There’s nothing more suspicious than flashlights,” Sanjay said.
“You mean if we happened to have flashlights,” I pointed out.
“Touché.”
The suite wasn’t much bigger than a standard hotel room in the US. The door opened into a small hallway. To the right, a bathroom that would have been at home in an airplane. To the left, two bedrooms that looked like they were previously one larger room. Straight ahead, a sitting room barely big enough to fit two chairs, a coffee table, and a loveseat in a tartan print matching the furniture in the lobby. The loveseat faced a television mounted on the wall, and next to the television was a hole where the wall safe had been. The wallpapered wall surrounding the safe was blackened, and the remnants of the safe’s metal door hung askew.
In addition to the evidence of the explosion around the safe, the room showed other scars of the theft: the furniture was soaking wet. The sprinkler on the ceiling had done its job.
Neither the sitting room nor the bathroom had a window. That luxury was reserved for the two bedrooms on the opposite side of the hallway, each with one small window. Each bedroom had enough room for two twin-size beds—which looked smaller than standard twin-size to me—about two feet apart. The tall, narrow windows were in the space between the beds. Neither room had built-in closets, but instead had antique wooden wardrobes.
Sanjay ran his fingers along the edging of the floorboards through the whole suite, then did the same thing along the walls. While he made two slow, meticulous circles, I studied the windows. They were small, almost like the openings for archers in a castle. There was no reason to have bigger windows for a view, since the windows faced another old building a few yards away. I looked around the edges of both windows. Typical of hotel windows, these windows didn’t open. How had the police thought someone could have gotten out through one of them?
