by I H Laking
“I wanted to see if you were alright first before I asked any questions.”
What am I doing? I never ask people that. Ambrose was mentally kicking himself.
“I’m fine, Inspector. I just didn’t expect to see a dead body this weekend.”
Ambrose made a sympathetic noise and pushed past his urge to delve into more emotional lines of questioning. “Did you have a chance to talk with my sister about how she came to be in the Guest House tonight?” he said, pulling out his notebook.
“Yes, she was emotional, poor dear, but it seems that she simply excused herself in order to use the washroom,” Molly began, “But then she decided to check on the decorations in the Great Ballroom.” She leaned in closer to Ambrose and dropped her voice. “I don’t blame her for feeling nervous about the decorations and preparations. There are just so many strange people here this weekend. The way that Zhan was acting this afternoon – you noticed it, didn’t you?”
Ambrose mumbled that he did as he scratched notes quickly. It was hard to keep up with all the information flowing in.
Molly continued. “Felicity saw that the door leading to the Guest House was ajar, and that there was a set of footprints leading to the Guest House door. I don’t know why she bothered to go and investigate - only a fool would be out in this weather. Anyway, from what I gathered, she was curious to see if it was Mrs Mansfield out there, or if someone had simply left the door open.”
“And what did she find when she went out there?” Ambrose didn’t look up as he continued writing.
Molly’s tone changed. “She found Mrs Mansfield’s body lying dead on the floor, and the Eye of Gothmore gone,” she snapped. “What else did you think she found, Inspector? Imagine her terror finding that poor old lady lying on the floor, not breathing. I just… I just…” Molly’s voice began to quiver with emotion.
“I’m so sorry – I didn’t mean to suggest anything. I know Felicity will take a long time to recover from the shock. I just…” Ambrose found himself stumbling over his words.
Come on, pull yourself together.
Ambrose reached out a hand to console Molly, and this time she grabbed it and held it tight. Ambrose was suddenly feeling very hot, confused and distracted.
“It’s alright, I understand, Inspector,” said Molly as she pulled herself together. “It’s just hard to be calm in the middle of all this pain.” Seeing half an opportunity to get his hand (and his heart) back, Ambrose patted Molly on the shoulder and jotted down a note quickly.
“I think I have enough for now.” Ambrose smiled weakly and put his notebook away. “It’s time for all of us to get some rest, Molly. You’ll feel much more stable in the morning. Thank you for being so strong for Felicity. It means the world to me.”
Molly seemed to appreciate Ambrose’s words. She smiled, bid him goodnight, and returned to her room.
As the door shut with a quiet click, Ambrose breathed out deeply. He was going to have to keep a tight watch on his emotions until this case was solved. He had never felt so close to being out of control of the way he felt.
Turmoil.
Yes, turmoil.
The house had fallen quiet as Ambrose shut the door to his room. He wanted to rest – it had been such a long day, but there was still work to be done. He sat down at his desk and pulled out his notebook.
Flicking through his notes, Ambrose considered who could have had the opportunity to kill Mrs Mansfield. She had been away from the dining room for nearly an hour before Felicity discovered her body. Ambrose concentrated as hard as he could, trying desperately to remember the movements of people in the dining room. Mr Bijonne, Sam Silcox, Lucas Lamarre, Mystico, and Zhan had all excused themselves at some stage. The Colonel had gone to “Check when that darned dessert was arriving” at one stage, and of course, Felicity had found the body. The only people who had remained were the Durants, Molly and Ambrose. It seemed like a list of suspects was starting to emerge.
Ambrose took off his jacket and lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to get his mind around the case at hand. He awoke hours later as the embers in the open fireplace burnt low, and the snow continued to fall silently outside.
Breakfast was a silent affair, broken only by the occasional sniffing of Mrs Durant, who had barely calmed down from the previous evening. Cutlery clinked and every so often someone would mutter about the weather and the thick coating of snow that covered the outside world. Few people arrived on time, either, and Mrs Mansfield’s chair sat conspicuously empty. Molly and Felicity were the last pair to arrive, and were soon holding glum conversation whilst eating their toast and sipping hot tea.
Ambrose watched the interactions of the guests with interest. Who had something to hide today? Most people simply looked like they wanted to go home, but there would be no way out until the snow cleared, which would certainly not be today. Once the path to Mansfield was clear, however, Ambrose wouldn’t be able to stop the guests departing.
There were two options: try and establish who committed the murder, or figure out who stole the gem. Since the two crimes were most likely connected, only one needed to be solved. As he surveyed the emotional faces of all involved, Ambrose made his decision: he would search for the thief, whilst hunting for the gem itself. It was hard to hide something like the Eye of Gothmore easily, and everyone who left the room the previous evening had a motive to steal it. He looked around the table:
Sam and Lucas likely needed money for whatever questionable business deals they were pursuing.
Mr Bijonne knew the value of the gem, and had admired it for years.
Mystico had specifically said he was going to steal the gem – had his prank gone horribly wrong?
And then there was Zhan. He was by far the most out of place in his plain tunic. Ambrose wasn’t even sure how he had been invited to the Manor. Khan valued the Eye more than anyone else because he revered it. And he had the strength of body and will to physically harm someone if he chose to. Yes, Zhan seemed to stand out from the rest.
Ambrose’s thinking was interrupted by Clink, who had just arrived to clear the table. He wanted to know the order of business for the day, considering the circumstances. Ambrose instructed him to serve lunch and dinner as usual, and to carry on with the day’s other affairs. Clank was to stay stationed by the Guest House at all times in order to ensure the body wasn’t tampered with.
Soon the breakfast party dispersed, and Ambrose found himself alone with Molly and Felicity. He enquired about their plans for the day.
“I suppose we’ll start clearing the decorations from the Great Ballroom,” Felicity said, sighing loudly.
Molly looked equally unenthused. “Isn’t there anything we can do to help you?” she asked Ambrose, clearly trying to avoid a second day working with decorations.
Ambrose looked at Molly’s eyes, deep with sorrow, and found feelings once again tugging at his logical mind. “No,” he forced himself to say, “But thank you. I’ll be going about my investigation quickly, and I do my best work alone I’m afraid.”
Turmoil.
Molly smiled a little. “I thought you always worked with a partner?” she asked.
“I do, but in this case protocol dictates that I don’t include any civilians unless it’s for questioning,” Ambrose said. Molly gave a little pout, but still got up and walked out, taking Felicity with her. As the ladies left, Zhan popped his shaggy head around the corner.
“Inspector, if you don’t mind, The Colonel and I have decided to search for the gem this morning,” he said, before he pulled out a wicked-looking scimitar. “If we happen upon this murderer wandering around the Manor, we’ll escort him back to you! In one piece, obviously.” He smiled broadly, then disappeared from the doorway before Ambrose could reply.
Well, if he’s the thief, they won’t be finding the gem anytime soon, Ambrose reflected, before deciding to have a chat with Sam and Lucas about their business dealings.
It wasn’t hard to find Sa
m. He spent much of his time in the Billiards Room, so Ambrose headed straight there. Sure enough, Sam’s voice was coming from the room as Ambrose approached. He sounded irritated, saying, “I bought you here to help me, and someone else steals the gem! With all this attention, what if people find out about our plan? It’s in tatters now.”
The voice of Mystico responded, “Well I didn’t know someone was after the gem; how could I?”
Sam snorted in disgust. “You just should. What kind of a magician are you anyway?”
As Mystico started to reply, Ambrose knocked on the door. “Am I interrupting?” he asked as he stepped into the room.
Mystico glared at Sam. “No, not at all. I was just leaving to practice my magic skills anyway.” He charged past Ambrose in a huff, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Sam upheld his usual nonchalant appearance. “So, Inspector, come to ask me if I did it?” he quipped.
“Well, if you’re expecting me to, I shouldn’t let you down – where did you go when you left the dining room last night?” Ambrose asked. Sam smiled – it was a washroom break, he explained; nothing sinister whatsoever had occurred.
“And what about your business needs? Surely the gem would have set you up for the long run?” Ambrose asked.
“Ah, whilst that may be true, I had no plan to take the gem for myself. I’m not at liberty to explain my business dealings to you, though. I know the law.” Sam stared at Ambrose as if to challenge him.
“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts in the afternoon yesterday?” Ambrose asked.
“Lucas and I were here most of the time. Go ahead; ask him,” Sam said.
Sam clearly wasn’t looking to talk, so Ambrose decided to call an end to the tense conversation, excusing himself from the room. But as he stepped out into the hallway, he caught a flash of motion from the corner of his eye – someone was moving towards the Great Ballroom at pace. Ambrose moved quickly down the corridor and out into the entrance area.
No one was there.
“Psst.”
Ambrose looked around. Nothing moved, except for the gently swaying streamers hanging from the Great Ballroom’s pillars.
“Psst. In the coats.”
Over to the side of the room stood the Coat Room counter, and from amongst the coats hanging behind it, the face of Mr Bijonne was sticking out. He beckoned Ambrose to join him, which he did.
As they stood there surrounded by fur coats and winter jackets, Mr Bijonne dropped his voice. “Sorry for all the secrecy, but I have important information for you,” he said, looking around quickly. “There was something wrong with the gem when I looked at it yesterday.”
Ambrose’s eyes grew wide. “Something wrong? Why on earth didn’t you say anything?” he shot back, as the jeweller motioned for him to keep his voice down.
“I’ve studied the Eye of Gothmore for many years,” said Mr Bijonne, “I know how it should look and feel. All the books of history and gemstone knowledge speak of a great weight and a… presence to the Eye. I was honoured to be asked to study it in person, but when I saw it and handled it myself, I was confused: had I been misled all these years? There was nothing special about the Eye of Gothmore at all. It was merely another pretty stone.” He looked forlornly at the ground.
“I see,” said Ambrose, considering what this all meant. He didn’t believe in the myth surrounding the gem, but if this expert felt something wasn’t right with the Eye, it was important information. Ambrose thanked the Jeweller, and was about to leave when he felt Mr Bijonne’s hand on his arm.
“I beg of you, Inspector. Find this thief quickly. I have a terrible feeling that they will simply kill again unless they are stopped,” he pleaded.
Ambrose squeezed Mr Bijonne’s hand as he removed it from his arm. “I assure you, I’ll do everything I can to find the thief quickly,” he said, and exited the Coat Room swiftly, deciding that it was time to pay a second visit to the crime scene.
There was a loud graunch as Clink opened the door to the Guest House and ushered Ambrose in. It was freezing inside without the fire burning, and the room held only gloom in Ambrose’s eyes. Mrs Mansfield’s body was still where it had been the previous night, covered by the white sheet. Ambrose was sure there had to be some kind of clue as to how the thief had got in – something that he might have missed earlier. After half an hour of searching, however, he was still no closer to understanding how someone had managed to break into both the room and the safe.
A sound caught Ambrose by surprise, and he looked up to see Zhan and The Colonel standing at the main western window gesturing to him excitedly. Even though he wasn’t in the mood for company, Ambrose made his way outside to see what they were worked up about.
“I say, you’ll never guess what we found!” The Colonel exclaimed, holding up some red clay, similar to the piece he had seen last night.
Ambrose shrugged. “Yes, more of the clay – I’m not sure it’s going to be much use in the investigation, I’m afraid.”
This really is wasting my time.
The Colonel and Zhan looked disappointed, but they moved on all the same, leaving Ambrose to his search. As he entered the Guest House again, he spotted something that surprised him, however. There was a small piece of red clay lying to the side of the door once again.
I wonder if…
Picking up the clay, Ambrose opened the door and looked at the place where the lock secured the door to the frame. Sure enough, a thin outline of red clay sat there, conspicuous against the wood.
Well that explains how the thief got in.
Ambrose looked at the door. With enough clay in the door frame, the lock wouldn’t have slid entirely closed; a well-trained thief or warrior would know that trick. Or a magician. Further investigation of the safe revealed the same traces of red clay around the lock.
They really should have bought a better safe. Complacency is so often lamented in hindsight, thought Ambrose as he thumbed the lump of clay in his hand.
“Was the safe opened at any stage this weekend aside from when Mr Bijonne performed his evaluation?” Ambrose asked Clink, who informed him that it had not been opened to the best of his knowledge, and only he and Mrs Mansfield held a key to open it.
“I see,” said Ambrose, as he absent-mindedly paced the room, considering the timing required to steal the gem. The key time was between the inspection and Mrs Mansfield’s death, when the gem was discovered missing. That didn’t exactly reduce the suspect list, as everyone dispersed before dinner. There was at least a two-hour period in which someone could have snuck back to the Guest House and removed the gem.
When Mrs Mansfield arrived in the Guest House during dinner, had she interrupted someone, or had she simply discovered that The Eye of Gothmore had been stolen and died of shock? Ambrose scuffed the carpet in frustration: what was he missing? So many suspects stood out, each with motive and opportunity to steal the gem. He made up his mind to continue watching Zhan’s actions closely throughout the day.
Ambrose looked up from his musings and was surprised to see the figure of a Messenger Mech arriving outside the Guest House. He made his way out to receive Percy’s latest response. The Mech was an upgraded 7-9-7 model, which would allow for a much clearer message. It greeted him curtly and whirred into life.
“Awful to hear of Mrs Mansfield’s passing. Blood sample provided shows strong traces of Delphine poison. Will organise backup promptly as possible, Percy.” The Mech awaited Ambrose’s response, but he simply stood there thinking.
Poison!
That explained the lack of bruising on Mrs Mansfield’s body. Delphine poison had a delayed onset, showing no signs of its presence in the body until the victim suffered a massive heart attack. Given that it usually worked within half a day, it was likely that something Mrs Mansfield had eaten during the day had accounted for her death, which was now beyond question a professional murder. But the question remained; if the aim was to steal the Eye of Gothmore, why bother murdering Mrs Mansfi
eld?
Curious.
The Mech shifted impatiently. Ambrose shook himself out of his thinking and delivered his reply. “Multiple suspects identified, all have strong motives. Will organise search of property for Gothmore, likely hidden. Backup appreciated, assassin still present somewhere, Ambrose.”
The Mech strode off through the snow in a flash. Ambrose looked up at the back of the Manor. He could feel eyes looking down on him – was it the thief? Was there more than one person behind this crime?
Clink was standing nearby, and Ambrose broached a final question with him. “Was anyone at all seen moving between the Guest House and the Manor in the evening?”
The Mech shook his head firmly. “None of the guests had access to the Guest House, and no one collected their coat to venture outside after Mr Bijonne’s appraisal, I’m afraid.”
Suddenly Ambrose remembered a rumour from his boyhood days around the Manor. “Clink, I know you are honour-bound to keep the Manor’s secrets, but I must know: Is there any other way someone could move between the Manor and the Guest House unseen?”
Ambrose looked at the Mech, who seemed to hesitate for a second. He then responded: “No, Master Ambrose. I don’t believe there is.” As he finished, Clink’s gaze shifted for a moment to the Western Wing of the Manor, then returned to Ambrose before he proceeded to head back into the Guest House.
With that look, Ambrose knew his course of action. He reflected on the news he had just received from Percy. Delphine was a complex poison, and hard to come by. It was only identifiable to a well-trained eye. The poison was made from the seeds of the Delphinus Elongis, better known as Yellow Wildlillies – a flower that grew exclusively in the Eastern Empire.
Ambrose could feel an idea pulling at the corner of his mind, like a thread tugging way. He had to find Ali-Zhan Hazi; the Easterner would need to stay by his side until he gathered the evidence he needed. After making a last sweep of the Guest House for anything out of the ordinary, Ambrose headed back to the Manor to find Zhan.
