Holiday Heist: A Humorous Romantic Mystery (A Celebrity Mystery Book 2)

by Zanna Mackenzie

  “You think he did some digging around and found out her likes and dislikes and adopted the same things himself?”

  Jack nods. “It’s easily done, even with somebody who isn’t famous. Arabella has done countless interviews which he could access online, but there’s also social media stuff and loads of ways of finding out about people’s lives.”

  I shudder. “That’s a little creepy.”

  “True, but sometimes these things work in your favour as well.”

  “But why would he go to all of that trouble? If he’s a backer of the TV series, then he’s already got money, so he isn’t after that. Which ties in with the question of why he’d steal the necklace. It’s not as though he’s really a jewel thief and is about to fence it to some dealer to break it up into parts which will be tricky to recognise or trace.”

  Jack gives me a sideways look. “You’ve been watching crime shows again, haven’t you?”

  “I like them,” I reply, squeezing his arm. “Plus, it’s research.”

  “You’re planning on embracing a life of crime then, are you?” he asks, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

  “Not sure yet,” I muse.

  “Well, if you decide to go over to the dark side, give me some notice, will you?”

  “Why? Are you planning on tracking me down and setting me back on the right road?” I tease, flashing him a playful smile. “It might be fun, having you stalking me.”

  Jack laughs. “I can think of much more fun things to do with you.”

  “Anyway,” I add as my cheeks flush bright red. It feels wise to steer this conversation back into safer territory. “Vincent was with Arabella out on the lake at the time the necklace was stolen, so he has the perfect alibi.”

  “Which is, again, all rather convenient, don’t you think?”

  Maybe. “So, what next in the Great Holiday Heist investigation?”

  “Back to reception,” he says, getting to his feet. “I want to check calls made to and from the bedrooms of Arabella and her party.”

  Jack is firmly back in work mode. Focus, I tell myself, is good, otherwise the missing necklace is not going to get tracked down this side of our looming Christmas Day deadline. I was so looking forward to tomorrow and being part of a kid’s version of Christmas – all impatiently ripped-off wrapping paper in the eagerness to explore the exciting gifts hidden inside, eating too many sweets and staying up way beyond the usual bedtime. Jack’s brother Frazer and his wife Emma have three young children, and I’m feeling a bit hyped up myself at the prospect of spending the day with them all at their Wellbeck farmhouse. My mind darts momentarily to the snowflake truffle mixture languishing in the fridge at home. I need to get them finished before tomorrow lunch so I can take them along with us as my contribution to the festive foods fuelling the hectic family Christmas. I feel torn. A part of me wanting to be here with Jack, helping if I can with the case in the hope it can all been done and sorted before the clock strikes midnight. Yet, at the same time, the other part of me is thinking I should be at home, finishing up my festive preparations.

  While Jack asks the receptionist to summon Gerald again so he can get access to phone information for the rooms, I loiter by the jaw-dropping Christmas tree. I wonder if they got an interior designer to come in and dress the whole hotel. They must have done. Each delicate bauble is perfectly placed, each ribbon of gold beads woven carefully amongst the branches. Checking to make sure nobody is watching, I tentatively stretch out a hand, stroking it down the smooth, shiny surface of one of the priceless-looking ornaments.

  “Don’t touch please!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I jump a foot at the hissed words, my hand knocking the bauble from its perch. As it slides towards the floor, I lunge for it, a horrified expression on my face. My fingers close around it just before it makes contact with the floor. I allow myself to breathe again and spin round to admonish Jack for pretending to tell me off.

  But it isn’t Jack standing next to me. It’s a woman in her fifties with a fierce expression on her face. Yikes. I turn away and try to put the bauble back on its branch, but I’m all fingers and thumbs.

  “I’ll do it,” she says in an irritated tone.

  I proffer the bauble and make my escape. Jack’s still at the reception desk, so I sidle up next to him. “Got the info you were after?”

  Before he can reply, Gerald appears from an office behind the reception desk and hands him a folded sheet of paper.

  “I have now,” Jack says to me and then directs a “thanks” at the hotel manager.

  In the bar again, we find a table near the crackling fire, and Jack unfolds the bit of paper from Gerald.

  “You know,” I say, “a Christmas tree would be the perfect place to hide a stolen necklace. There’s something on every branch, either a string of gold beads or an ornament of some sort. It would be easy to tuck a necklace in amongst them and nobody would spot it. Then, after the fuss had died down, you simply retrieve it and make your escape.”

  Jack glances at the nearest tree, setting aside the bit of paper he’d been reading. “Yeah,” he leans forward. “You’ve got a good point there.”

  “But there are loads of decorated trees in the public areas of the Roseby,” I muse, losing some of my original enthusiasm for the idea. “It would take ages to check over each one of them. Plus, I don’t fancy tangling with that scary woman in reception again. I thought she was going to yell at me for touching her precious tree. Can you imagine her face if we said we wanted all of the trees stripped bare for this investigation?”

  “She would not be a happy bunny, that’s for sure.” He leans back in his chair and picks up the bit of paper again. “And, like you say, it would take ages. There must be hundreds, if not thousands of decorations on some of the trees around here.”

  “And we don’t have long to get this case solved.” I swivel my eyes towards the sheet. “Any calls from the bedrooms?”

  Jack hands me the paper. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

  “They could have made calls on mobile phones instead,” I say, “but I’m thinking those aren’t going to be so easy to trace. Why are we checking calls anyway?”

  “Always worth a shot, just in case somebody slipped and did something without thinking,” he replies. “Vincent could have rung a contact and arranged for him to access the room at a certain time, or our thief could have called the room to see if anybody answered, trying to gauge if the occupants were around.”

  “Or it all could have been pre-arranged,” I chip in. “And that’s why he booked the boat trip, knowing they’d be away for a certain amount of time and the coast would be clear for his accomplice.”

  “Exactly.” Jack folds the paper up and tucks it into his jacket pocket. “I’ve got zero chance of my contact being able to check mobile phone records at five o’clock on Christmas Eve, so we’re going to have to come at this from a different angle.”

  I recognise the flicker of mischief in Jack’s eyes. “Such as?” I ask warily.

  He inclines his head across the bar towards the table right at the other end of the room. The table where Vincent Turner is still sitting – and still drinking. “Maybe you could distract him whilst I get his mobile phone.”

  “You mean steal it?” I hiss, leaning closer to Jack.

  “No, I mean borrow it for five minutes,” he replies in a perfectly-reasoned tone.

  “And this will help?”

  Jack nods. “Definitely.”

  I sigh, resigned to my fate. If I want his case closed ASAP, then I need to be prepared to play my part. “OK.”

  “Got a plan?” he checks, standing up and offering a hand to help me to my feet.

  “Fainting?” I suggest. “Would that work?”

  He nods his approval. “Sounds good to me.”

  We make our way across the bar, and I sway slightly as though I’ve had one too many mulled wines. Just as we reach Vincent’s chair, I pretend my knees are buckling and grab at his
table with what I hope is a panicked expression on my face. There’s a reason I was never given a role in any of my school productions when I was growing up – basically, I’m a rubbish actress.

  “Careful!” Vincent yelps, leaping to his feet to catch me. At least I hope that’s what he’s planning on doing, otherwise I’m about to land in a heap on the carpet. Oh well, at least it’s a deep and thick carpet to help cushion my fall.

  Thankfully Vincent’s arm closes around my waist and stops my embarrassing descent. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Jack quickly stepping in behind me – and close to Vincent. He’ll be moving in to search in my rescuer’s pockets for his phone, so I need to ensure I’ve got Vincent’s full attention for the next minute or so.

  “Oooohhhhh,” I wail, clutching at Vincent’s arms.

  He grips me more tightly, and I force myself to slump in his arms so he has to take my full weight, meaning he doesn’t have any hands free to check why somebody is rifling through his pockets.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Noooooooo,” I reply, playing it as best I can. “Hold me,” I add, just to ensure Vincent doesn’t get any ideas about trying to manoeuvre me into a chair. Come on, Jack! How long does it take to pick somebody’s pockets?

  “Let me help you,” Jack says smoothly, appearing at my side. “I did warn you not to have that last drink.”

  “Put her in that chair,” Vincent suggests, pointing to a chair at his table. “I’ll go and get some water for her.”

  “Thanks,” Jack says, his arms around my waist, slowly lowering me onto the cushions.

  As soon as Vincent’s back is turned, Jack starts checking the borrowed phone.

  “He’s going to be back any second,” I whisper, my eyes planted on the man at the bar. “Jack, you need to be quick.”

  “No worries,” he says calmly.

  I can see Vincent talking to the barman, and they both turn in my direction. Oh great, now he’s gone and got somebody else involved. Armed with a glass of water, the two of them head in my direction. “Jack,” I hiss at him again.

  “I know. I know. Give me one second.”

  We don’t have one second!

  “Is madam feeling all right?” the barman asks, concern flashing in his eyes. “Shall I call our designated first aider?”

  Jack slips the phone into his pocket and stands up. “No need for that. She’s feeling a bit better already. I’ll take her outside to gets some fresh air in a minute.”

  The barman clears his throat. “Is that wise, sir?”

  “She’ll be fine.” He lowers his voice and leans in towards the hotel employee. “She’s just had one too many. I blame myself entirely. She was upset about me taking on this job on Christmas Eve.”

  “Job, sir?”

  Jack leans even closer to the man. “Yeah, you know, the case.”

  The barman looks even more confused now – and that’s when I realise, while chatting away to distract everyone, Jack has slipped the phone back into Vincent’s pocket.

  Smooth.

  “Right, let’s get outside. Some brisk night air will do you wonders,” Jack says in a matter-of-fact voice, helping me to my feet.

  Suits me. I want to get out of this bar, pronto.

  Jack surprise me by actually leading me outside. The night air is more than brisk. It’s teeth-chattering and finger-numbing. It’s also snowing again. We shelter under the slate portico at the hotel entrance, with a backdrop of the beautiful tree I’d admired when we first arrived. Jack wraps his arms around me to warm me up and plants a delicious kiss full on my lips.

  “Thanks for doing that.”

  “You owe me, big time,” I reply, standing on tip-toe, seeking a repeat performance.

  Jack obliges, and for a few moments I completely forget where I am and what I’m doing. I even forget the cold seeping into the soles of my boots. Jack’s kisses tend to have that effect on me. Eventually, our lips part.

  “Did you find anything useful on the phone?” I ask, reluctantly coming back down to earth.

  “Yes. He made one call. I memorised the number.”

  Wow. He can do that?

  “Let’s call it then!” I say, eager to find out if the number is going to help us crack this case.

  Jack pulls out his own phone and taps in the number. It rings, and rings and rings. Just when I think it’s a dead end, there’s a click and a message service cuts in. I lean closer to the phone so I can hear the female voice on the outgoing message.

  This is Hattersley and Fallowell, the jewellers. I’m sorry, but our store is closed at the moment. We will re-open for business on December the twenty-ninth. Merry Christmas.

  I look at Jack as he clicks the phone off. “Vincent called a jewellers this afternoon! That’s got to be significant, hasn’t it? Hattersley and Fallowell are on the main street in Delamere. Was he planning to sell the necklace to them today?”

  “The call was made before he went on his boat trip with Arabella,” Jack replies. “So, he could have rung them to arrange to take in the necklace later in the day. His accomplice steals it while he’s out on the lake – killing two birds with one stone. He has Arabella with him, so he knows the room is empty, plus he provides himself with the perfect alibi.”

  I nod, anxious to fit all the pieces together. “And then he disappears to the bar, supposedly out of the way of Arabella’s mother, but in reality he was probably checking up with his accomplice and ensuring the necklace got to the jewellers before they closed. Genius!”

  “But the jewellery shop is closed now, so we can’t follow up that lead. If they did purchase the necklace, it will be tucked up in their safe and we’ve no way of finding out if that’s what happened,” he says, crushing my thoughts that the case might be solved.

  I push the sleeve of my dress up my arm and check my watch. Is it realistic to think we can crack this case today? Should I just face up to reality and wave bye-bye right now to the big family Christmas I was so looking forward to? I know Jack said earlier he’d put the investigation on hold to make dinner tomorrow, but I also know what he’s like when he gets caught up in a job. He’s like a dog with a bone and he refuses to let things go. I sigh. “So, what next?”

  “Let’s go and have a chat with Arabella’s sister.”

  I step away, but he tugs me back. “But first, I think we deserve another kiss.”

  The receptionist rings Hannah Saunders’ room, checks we can go up and then directs us to room twelve. When we arrive the door is already open, and Hannah beckons us in as she finishes a phone call.

  “I know that. Yes, of course. I’m well aware.” She flashes an apologetic look our way and gestures for us to take a seat on the sofa by the window. “I have to go. I’ll speak to you again later.”

  “Sorry about that,” she says as she clicks off her phone. “So, what can I do to help?” She walks across the room, closes the door and glides elegantly back towards us. The heels of her designer shoes are so high it’s a wonder she doesn’t get vertigo. How does she manage to walk in them? I’d keep falling over.

  “We just wanted to ask a few questions about the necklace.”

  “Of course,” she nods and sits opposite on a Queen Anne chair.

  Hannah looks nothing like her mother or her sister. She’s blonde and tanned and looks, dare I say it, a little high maintenance.

  “Why does your mother think Vincent took the necklace?” Jack starts.

  Hannah gives a delicate laugh. “Ah, my mother and Vincent do not get along. If it rains, she blames him. If she’s in a bad mood, she blames him. But, let’s face it, whoever Arabella chose to get involved with, he wouldn’t be good enough in our mother’s eyes.”

  “Oh?” I frown. “I got the impression Barbara and Arabella didn’t have the closest mother-daughter bond.”

  “They used to, years ago. Mum didn’t approve of Arabella’s career choices though, and things started to fall apart from there. You see, our grandmother was an actress. Carol
e Fitzgerald. Perhaps you’ve heard of her?”

  Jack opens his mouth to reply but I cut in. “Oh, wow, of course. Yes, she was a legend.”

  Hannah dips her head slightly, as though accepting the compliment on her grandmother’s behalf. “Arabella inherited the acting gene from our grandma, and mum wasn’t happy about it. She said acting was a fool’s game. Endless auditions, endless rejection, endless hours, that’s how she described the business.”

  “She must be proud of her now though, surely?” I quiz.

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Maybe somewhere deep inside she is, but I’ve never seen any sign of it.”

  “Why did she inherit the necklace and not your mother or you? Was it because she became an actress?” Jack asks.

  Hannah nods. “Poor Arabella. She’s distraught it’s gone. It was all we had left of our beloved grandma.” She leans forward, an earnest expression on her face. “You will find it, won’t you?”

  “Yes, we will,” Jack replies confidently. “Now, sorry, but I have to ask. Where were you two hours ago?”

  “I was on a call about some publicity engagements for Arabella.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “On Christmas Eve?”

  “That’s show business for you.” She shrugs.

  “The call couldn’t have taken that long,” he says. “What about before and after it?”

  Hannah’s eyes flick upwards and to the left as though she’s trying to recall the details. “Lunch in the bar, and then a stroll through the hotel grounds and down to the lake.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  She shakes her head, a bemused expression on her face. “I have no idea. I wasn’t exactly checking for people watching me. Why? Am I on your suspect list then?”

  “For now, everyone’s on the list,” Jack replies firmly, getting to his feet and walking towards the window. The curtains are still open even though it’s dark outside. “Do you and your sister get along?”

  “Yes. I don’t think she’d have asked me to be her manager otherwise, do you?”