Murder in Style

"Wow," breathed River, under her breath, as they walked through the busy foyer, complete with velvet curtains, crystal chandeliers and a gold-plated fountain. "This place is swish."

Carlton would have commented on her vocabulary, if he had been paying attention enough to hear her. He was deep in thought. "Hmm? What's that?" he said absent-mindedly, as they approached the reception desk.

"It's an amazing place!" repeated River, slightly louder. It was true. The Fitzroy Hotel was the most expensive hotel in London, generally hired solely by celebrities, foreign diplomats and royalty.

"Food's great, too," Carlton commented, and River looked at him in surprise.

"You've stayed here?"

"Once or twice, mainly for dinners. Don't give me that look," he complained, off River's amazed glance. "I just know a few people, that's all."

River was saved from having to comment by the arrival of the manager. In this calm and collected hotel, she looked out of place: her hair messy, her name badge askew.

"Detective Inspector Carlton?" she asked, and, at Carlton's nod, "We've been expecting you. This way, please."

Carlton and River followed her up the stairs and into one of the rooms on the first floor. In the sitting room of the suite, two maids and a bellboy were waiting nervously, the boy fidgeting with his too-tight gloves.

"What's the problem?" asked Carlton, as soon as the door had closed.

The manager nodded to one of the maids. "Susanna," was all she said.

The petite blonde girl stood up. "Oh, sir, it's terrible. I came in here this morning to clean the room, and I found the lady on the bed! It's so awful, sir - someone had... killed her!" she collapsed into tears. "Stabbed terrible, she was sir. Lots of blood."

River put a comforting hand on the girl's arm. "And what did you do then, Susanna?" she asked kindly.

"I screamed, and fainted. The next thing I knew, Alison and Paul were here." she gestured to the maid and bellboy. "They said someone had gone for the police."

"Did you move anything?" asked Carlton.

"No, sir. I didn't want to touch anything, case you people had thought I'd done it."

Whilst River comforted Susanna, Carlton headed into the bedroom to look around. A blonde woman lay face-down on the bed, from her position she might have been sleeping. But as Carlton raised up the body, he noticed a sharp knife dug deep into her designer dress.

Carefully, he pulled it out and examined it. It was an ordinary dinner knife, all right, probably what they used here in the dining rooms. Placing it in a plastic evidence bag, he continued with the search. However, other than the extreme messiness of the room - a pair of white gloves flung under the bed, clothes strewn all over the floor - the search yielded little.

After returning to the other room, he went straight up to the manager. "I'm glad to be able to make an arrest without resorting to searching the premises or the clients," he said confidently.

Answer (highlight to read): It must have been Susanna. How did she know that the body had been stabbed? She claimed that she hadn't touched it.

Jem Stone's Gemstones

Jerome Stone opened the door to his best friend Hugh Jacksonville with a big smile, and pulled him into a fierce hug.

"Hugh!" he exclaimed, "How are you doing? Not yet fed up with the Arctic?"

"Jem, you're looking well. Happy birthday! You've met Rachel, haven't you?" Hugh's wife, Rachel, smiled and held out her hand. Nearly 60 she may have been, but with smooth, perfectly tanned skin, and her golden hair with only a few threads of grey in it pinned into an elaborate updo, she was still very beautiful. She pecked Jem's worn cheek and made her way into the room.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've invited my children and their families to dinner as well," said Jem, as the doorbell rang, and he hurried to fetch it.

"Not at all, I would be delighted to meet them," replied Hugh, sociably.

A moment or so later, Jem was followed back into the room by a young woman and a tall, dark, silent-looking man. "Hugh, this is my daughter Harriet and her fiance, Mark. Mark and Harriet, this is my best friend, Hugh, and his wife Rachel."

The two couples greeted amiably, and Jem invited them all to a cup of coffee. "We'd better wait for Alan and his family," he explained, as he poured five cups, "And then we'll all go into lunch. I've prepared roast chicken and vegetables!"

The response was enthusiastic, and soon the conversation turned to Harriet's losing her job, the sharp rise in plane ticket prices, and the adventures of Hugh and Rachel on their last few years studying currents in the Arctic. The only person who didn't speak was Mark, who sat sullenly and stroked his moustache.

It was another forty-five minutes before the doorbell finally rang, and a young man and four young children were let in.

"I'm so sorry!" Alan rushed, "The traffic was terrible, we were out a bit too late, and I -"

"Never mind, never mind, you're here now." After greeting his grandchildren and introducing Alan to everyone else, Jem led the way through to the dining room.

After lunch, Jem brought out a small box and a key. Saying nothing as he opened slowly opened it, he captured everyone's attention, even Mark's. Inside the box lay a small black velvet pouch, which made a slight jangling noise when he shook it.

"Okay, whoever can guess what's in here can keep it," he smiled, knowing that no-one would be able to guess. After a few wild guesses from the children, and the odd suggestion from the adults, Jem chuckled and tipped the contents onto the table.

Everyone gasped. No fewer than twenty jewels spilled onto the oak, diamonds, sapphires and rubies.

"Where did you get them, Grandad?" one of the little boys.

"A good friend of mine, Brendan, died a few weeks ago. He left me these. Beautiful, aren't they?"

"Brendan?" Hugh asked suddenly. "I knew him. He went to our school, didn't he?"

"That's right," replied Jem, pleasantly, in answer to Hugh's jealous scowl.

After letting everyone admiring them, he put the jewels back in their box and locked them away, leading everyone through to the living room. Mark, however, lingered a little longer in the room, staring at the little silver box. After a few moments, he joined the others in the living room.

At the end of the day, when everyone had left, Jem was preparing to go to bed. As he walked back through the dining room, he noticed the small silver box, and smiled to himself. Just one more look, he promised himself. They were so beautiful.

But as he was preparing to insert the key, he noticed a small smudge of something bronze-coloured near the lock. He sniffed it. Fake tan? He tried again. There was no doubt about it, it was fake tan. Taking a closer look, he noticed a few scratches around the lock, as if made by a hairpin.

Fearing the worst, he quickly turned the key and yanked open the box. The little velvet pouch was empty.

He took a slow, deep breath. "Okay. I think I can work out who did this."

Answer (highlight to read): It was Rachel. Having spent many years in the Arctic circle, her tan must have been faked. Also, her hair was tied up using hairpins. She needed the money because of the steeply rising plane prices, and her regular trips to the Arctic Circle.

Carlton's Christmas

Detective Sergeant Katherine River was one of the best junior officers on the force, but right now she was not. Right now, she was just plain Kate, enjoying her day off shopping, searching for a Christmas gift for her niece.

Detective Inspector Carlton, on the other hand, was not in such a good mood. He hated days off, as he was a sharp-minded and brilliant detective, but a very bad shopper.

"Oh, just buy these and get it over with," he snapped, holding up an appalling stripy pair of trousers. River giggled, as Carlton scowled. "I hate Christmas."

Suddenly, there was a shout from the other end of the shop. "It wasn't me!" A girl was shouting at an official looking man in uniform. "I'm not a thief!"

In an instant, Carlton had leapt over a display of Christmas trees and was at the side of the security guard. "Need a hand?"

The guard sighed. "A jumper has gone missing from the display over there, and these three girls were the only ones near it. I'm happy for them to give it back and let the matter go, but each one swears they don't have it."

"Show me what type of jumper it was," Carlton said, and then turned to the girls. "No-one move."

The guard led him over to the display and showed him a red jumper. "It was just like this one, but in a size Small," he explained. "And one of the girls must have taken it."

Carlton replaced the jumper and came back to the girls. "All right then, you each have one minute to give me your name, and tell me who took the jumper, or I'll have the lot of you arrested."

The tallest girl tossed her long blonde hair impatiently. "Hayley Jones," she drawled. "And I don't know who took that jumper, but it wasn't me. When these girls were over looking at the jumpers, I was looking at the scarves. See, I bought this one." She showed Carlton a green scarf in her bag. "I paid for it and everything. Like I said, I'm not a thief."

The girl with ginger curls scowled. "Well, it wasn't me either," she jumped in. "I'm Jackie Newman. I'm not a thief either, but if it was anyone I'd bet it was Hayley. She's always short on money, and last year she was cautioned for stealing a hat from -"

"That's not fair, Jackie!" shouted Hayley. "I didn't steal that jumper! And I've got money now I've started at my job, so I don't need to steal."

"Shut up, Hayley," the shortest girl said. "It's my turn. I'm Izzy Lucas, and I didn't steal the jumper either. See, I've already bought a jumper, from the shop across the road. And red isn't my colour!"

"Just cos your dad's a stylist," muttered Jackie.

Carlton sighed. "Just hand over the jumper, and you can go," he said.

But to which girl did he say it to?


Answer (highlight to read): It must have been Izzy Lucas. How did she know that the stolen jumper was red? Besides, as the shortest member of the group, the size Small would have been the most likely to fit her.

The Woman is Dead

The rain was at that intermediate stage where it was neither dry nor a storm, an annoying drizzle that somehow got you soaked through in seconds. The uniforms had been standing around in this weather for half an hour already, but brightened when they saw the headlights of the sleek black car race towards them.

The car door slammed, and Detective Inspector Carlton got out and assessed the grim scene.

"Why can't people die in daylight hours?" he grumbled.

River, who was standing behind him, chuckled. "Let's leave the moaning for a bit, and find out who's dead."

One of the uniformed officers stepped forward to fill them in. "The body of a young woman was found stuffed in a skip just here," he began, indicating the skip. "Found by a man about half an hour ago who heard the screams. He saw a puddle of blood and the body, and called us round."

Here the uniform pointed to a body, which had been spread out on a plastic sheet by a couple of officers. Carlton leaned over to get a closer look.

"Four - wait, no, five stab wounds to the chest and stomach with a pen knife or something similar. Nasty," he grimaced. "Pretty girl, though, I'd stab a guess at mid-twenties. Stab a guess, get it, River?"

River shot him her most exasperated look. "Pockets are empty," she noted. "No form of ID, no purse, nothing. And look."

She pointed at a tan line on the girl's finger. "She wore a wedding ring, but someone removed it."

"Robbery gone wrong," mused Carlton, and looked up suddenly at the uniform. "Why call me if it was just a mugging?"

The uniform held out a small bag filled with jewellery and a pink purse. "This was found in a bin a few streets away," he explained.

"A bin?" Carlton asked. "Why kill someone, rob them, and then throw away your spoils?"

"Could have dropped them as he ran, soon as he heard someone coming," River pointed out.

"Not in a bin," Carlton countered. 

"Then this was someone trying to make it look like a mugging gone wrong." replied River.

Carlton nodded. "Who was around?"

"Talk to him yourself," replied the uniform, pointing to a young man.

The pair walked over to him, and Carlton got out his notebook. "Are you the man who found the body?" he asked.

"That's right. My name is Charles Johannes." said the man. "I was walking home and heard some screams. I raced down here as quickly as I could, and saw a pool of blood, and heard some footsteps running away. I followed the trail of blood and opened the skip, and I saw that lady's body, so I called the police."

"How long after you heard the screams did you arrive here?"

"A few seconds, no more," Charles replied.

"Leaving the criminal just enough time to bundle the body into the skip when he heard you coming," said River.

"Exactly," answered Charles.

Carlton frowned and walked away. "Who else was around here at this time of night?" he asked.

"The uniform's just swept the area," answered River. "Apparently, the only people they've found were two homeless people, a drug dealer so drunk he can't remember his own name, and the victim's husband, who came out to look for her when she didn't come home. He didn't know where she was, so he's just been wandering around trying to find her."

Carlton nodded sagely. "In that case, I know who killed her," he answered.


Answer (highlight to read): Charles Johnannes must be lying. If he found the body only a few seconds after she was killed, the murderer would not have had time to remove the woman's purse and jewellery, and even wrench a ring from her finger. Therefore, Charles is the murderer.

Til Death Do Us Part

It was the happiest day of Sarah's life - her wedding day. As her new husband, James, turning a charming smile to her, raised his glass in a toast, she smiled back, feeling that she was the luckiest woman alive.

Suddenly, the lights went out. There was instant panic - screams from the bridesmaid, a shout of 'what the hell?' from the best man and shrieks of joy from the little children who loved it. It took a few seconds for the emergency lights to flicker on, illuminating the hall in an eerie green glow.

James turned to Sarah to check she was alright - and staggered, nearly fainting. For in the middle of Sarah's lifeless body was a crimson patch of blood.

Suddenly, through the ensuing panic, a tall, good-looking man pushed his way through. "Let me through! I'm a detective, I can handle this." The hall slowly began to quieten, and the man showed his ID. "Detective Inspector Carlton, this is my assistant River." He gestured to a young woman behind him.

James scowled. "Who gave you permission to order us around?"

"I was called in here to investigate a threat. Now I can't prevent it, I will do my best to solve the crime. Get the hell out of my way, or I'll have you arrested."

James froze, and then sighed. "All right."

Carlton nodded. "That's better. River, clear the room. The lights were only out for a couple of seconds, so I'd say that narrows our suspects down to the people on the top table. Namely, the bridesmaid, groom, and best man. Get everyone else out, and take statements from those three."

River nodded. "Yes, sir." She began to move the shocked crowd out of the room.

When the room was clear, Carlton began his investigation. There was no weapon in the body, but as he searched the top table, he noticed a stain on the tablecloth. The cake knife had been shoved under the tablecloth where Louis, the best man, had been sitting, and it was covered in blood.

"Nice one, Carlton," he grinned to himself.

A few minutes later, River came back in. "Got the statements, sir," she said. "Take a look."

Catherine -- bridesmaid -- "When the lights went out, I was terrified. I hate the dark. I grabbed Sarah, who was next to me, and we clung to one another until the lights came back on again. She's been my best friend since school... I can't believe she's dead! Who would want to kill Sarah? Everyone loved her!"

James -- groom -- "Sarah was my childhood sweetheart, I loved her more than anything. This was to be the best day of our lives; we'd planned it all perfectly. And now to hear that she's been stabbed with a cake knife, like a pig for slaughter - it's horrible! And when I find out who killed her, I swear I'll kill him!"

Louis -- best man -- "Sarah was always loved by everyone, and was so gentle, she was the only person who could calm down James when he got angry. That man lost his cool once too often, to tell the truth. He even argued with Catherine! Who could argue with her? She looked so sweet nd innocent tonight in that pale gold dress.

Carlton finished reading. "This makes our job a lot easier, doesn't it, River?"

"Does it, sir?" River replied.

"Well, it does for a genius like me. We can make our arrest now." Carlton chuckled and swaggered out of the room.

Who killed Sarah, and why?


Answer (highlight to read): James killed Sarah, as he was the only person who knew that Sarah had been killed with the cake knife. He had attempted to kill Catherine, with whom he had argued, but with the two girls clutching each other, one in white and the other in pale gold, it was impossible to tell which was which. In the dark, James had stabbed his new bride rather than his bridesmaid.

Black Gold

Carlton pushed his way through the crowds, River trotting after him as quickly as she could in his wake. Despite the freezing temperatures and heavy snow, it hasn't stopped thousands of people turning up for the most famous horse racing event in the world -- the International Gold Cup.

"This is appalling," Carlton muttered under his breath, trying to squint through the blizzard. "How do they expect me to solve any crimes with this many people and this much snow, let alone prevent any?"

River, used to his grumbling, ignored him and continued with her task: keeping her eyes peeled for possible criminals. They had received a phone call from the owner of Black Gold, Johan Hauff, as they suspected someone to tamper with today's race. But no-one had expected the snow.

"Ridiculous," began Carlton again. "I can barely make out which stable is which." He grabbed the arm of a passing boy, who was leading a horse through the crowd. "Where's the stable of Black Gold?"

The boy grinned. "This is Black Gold, right here." He patted the neck of the excitable horse. "Can I help you? My name is Kyle Mason, I'm the stable hand."

"Do you look after the horse every day?" asked Carlton.

The boy puffed out his chest importantly. "Yes, sir, I do. The only people who come near him are the jockey, Michael Mann, his owner, Johan Hauff, and me. I'm always here to guard him, and make sure no-one else comes near."

"Have you left him at all today?"

"No, sir, except when I was having lunch. There weren't many people around, so I hoped he'd be safe."

"And is he still on top form?"

"Oh, yes, sir," replied Kyle. "Excellent form. I hope you'll put a little bet on."

River smiled at the boy's excitement. "The snow doesn't bother him, then?"

"Not much. However it will be harder for the jockeys in this weather; they'll barely be able to see the horse they're riding, let alone the fences. We're all hoping it will slow a little before the race begins, or there could be some nasty accidents."

Carlton nodded and let the boy shoo away some people standing too close to the valuable horse, and lead it down to the track. As the boy left he noticed a man standing behind where the horse had been, a grim expression on his face.

"You moving along?" Carlton asked coldly.

The man sneered. "May as well. I'm clearly not going to get what I came for?"

"And what did you come for?" Carlton asked, matching the man's sneer with one of his own.

"I'm waiting for Mr Mann to leave the weighing room. I need a little word with him."

"Mr Mann?" River caught the name. "He's Black Gold's jockey, isn't he?"

The man nodded. "My name's Sam Tyler. I used to be Black Gold's jockey. Til last week."

Carlton frowned. "Last week? Why the quick change?"

Sam Tyler laughed mirthlessly. "Money, of course. I'm the better jockey, I should win today on Black Gold. Except that Mr Hauff couldn't afford to pay me, so he switched to Michael Mann. I offered to stay for less money, but Hauff refused. Today's win should be mine, not that idiot's."

"He hasn't won yet," River pointed out.

"Noticed that myself," Sam Tyler remarked, touched his hat, and left.

Suddenly, there was a loud whinny from behind them. Black Gold had reared up, practically lifting Kyle Mason off his feet. Carlton darted forward and grabbed the horse's reins whilst the stallion bucked and kicked in agitation.


As the horse began to calm down, Kyle got up from the ground, a little shaken, and took the reins back from Carlton. "Thanks," he stuttered, but Carlton did not let go of the reins. A small trickle of blood had matted the horse's mane from a small puncture in his neck.
"Upset by the snow!" someone cried, but the jockey, who was standing by Mr Hauff, a few steps away, frowned. "Black Gold never got upset by snow," he said slowly.

What happened?


Answer (highlight to read): Black Gold's owner, Mr Hauff, was fast approaching bankruptcy. To raise his capital, he placed a large bet against his own horse and then sabotaged it with a small needle.

A Cold-Blooded Murder

Detective Sergeant River wrapped her scarf closer around her neck and stamped her feet against the bitter cold. It had been below freezing for several days: good news for the skaters, who had already set up a rink over the icy Thames, but bad news for the man who was frozen in the ice just in front of her.

She skated forward a few paces to see the body a bit closer, but as she had only ever skated a few times before, she tripped and nearly fell, incurring a glare from her superior, Detective Inspector Carlton, who was kneeling over the body.

"Finished with the acrobatic show?" he asked snidely, the bad weather making his temper even worse.

She ignored him, bending over the body ineptly. "What have you learnt, sir?"

He straightened up with ease; a competent skater. "A young man in his early 30s, name of George Maxwell. Hard to tell what the cause of death was, the body's been frozen for several hours at the very least."

River frowned. "There's a huge knife sticking in his back. Isn't that a bit of a give away?"

Carlton sighed. "No blood," he pointed out. "It was probably done a short while after death. Before rigor mortis set in, though, so-"

"Enough!" River interrupted him before he got in one of this morbid moods and discussed the body in greater detail. "Time of death?"

"Between 9 and 10 yesterday evening, but he must have been put in the river before it froze over, which was about 9 p.m. in this part."

Carlton helped River back to the edge and she gratefully pulled off her skates. "So what do we do now, sir?"

The answer was waiting for them - two men and a petite woman lined up against the bank, shivering.

"These people all claim to have been with Mr Johnson last night, sir," the policeman said.

Carlton nodded. "River, take statements. I'm going to have a coffee."

And with that, he walked off.

River rolled her eyes, and began questioning.

**

"Here, Carlton," River walked into the cafe where Carlton was still waiting, an hour later, reading the newspaper. Annoyed, she snatched it from his hands and replaced it with her notepad.

He read:

Olivia Howe: I'm George's fiancee, Olivia. We went out last night to celebrate our engagement. It was a good night out - we went to a pub in town near where we lived. At about 10 we noticed that George wasn't with us, and got a bit worried for him... he'd had a lot to drink, you see. We searched everywhere, but never found him. It was such a shock to find he was dead!

Lawrence Finds: I'm George's best friend, we all went out for a good night after we heard the good news about him and Olivia. I guess it's common knowledge that we fought a good bit, but we were mates - I'd never kill him, ever! We had had a falling out, but we made sure to make up at this party - it was also a bit of a celebration for me too, see. I've got a new job, I set up a butcher's not far from here. 

Peter Lewis: I've known Olivia for some years, and I met George through her, last year. I used to go out with her, see. It was great to know that they were finally tying the knot. I never noticed that George wasn't with us, and then when I did I wasn't worried at first, I thought he had just wandered off. I never thought of murder!

Carlton handed back the notepad. "We've had news from the lab," he replied, "Other than an abnormally high alcohol content in George's blood, they can't find anything wrong. No bullet wound, no poison, so other apparent cause of death."

"Do we need it, sir?" asked River. "The knife in his back belongs to Lawrence Finds - I think that's all the evidence we need to send him to jail for a long time."

Carlton smiled and took another sip of his coffee. "Perhaps," he agreed, "But I had my eye on another candidate."

Who killed George, how and why?


Answer (highlight to read): Peter Lewis, jealous that George was getting married to his ex, got George drunk, took him outside and pushed him in the river. At that temperature, hypothermia would have killed him before he drowned, and then he stuck the knife in to incriminate Lawrence.

Lucia's Robbery

Lucia Anderson just couldn't get out of bed on Monday morning. Her head hurt, she felt sick, and she ached all over, and the sweet smell of breakfast coming from downstairs didn't help either.

She leaned out of bed and pressed a small bell on her bedside table to call in Katie, her maid. She was new to Lucia's household, a recommendation from her cousin, but very bright and Lucia always found her helpful.

"Call the doctor, Katie," she croaked. "And cancel my appointments for today. I'm ill."

"Of course, madam," Katie replied, and left the room.

A few hours later, Lucia heard the doorbell ring, and some voices downstairs. Suddenly, the door was flung open and her best friend Max stood in the doorway, a big smile on his face.

"Morning, Lucia!" he said, "I heard you were feeling a bit ill. I thought I'd come along and cheer you up."

"Thanks, Max," Lucia replied gratefully. "What's in there?" She had her eyes on a large bag that Max had carried up.

"Games!" he announced, opening it to reveal a selection of board games. "I figured you might be a bit bored, sitting in bed all day. Oh, and I brought you some grapes."

After a playing a few games and munching on a couple of grapes, Lucia felt a little better, but it wasn't long before Max had to leave for another appointment. She rang the bell again and Katie showed out Max.

As Max left, Doctor Pale arrived. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, as he checked Lucia's pulse. After asking a few more questions, he seemed to know the problem.

"Unfortunately I just left my bag in the car," he admitted. "But I'm afraid I can't really do anything about this. Drink lots of water and rest, and you should be all right in a couple of days."

"Thanks, Doctor," said Lucia, leaning back in bed.

"It was nice of your friend to leave you these board games and grapes. I met him on the way out," said Doctor Pale jovially, as he got up.

"Yes, he's a good friend," mused Lucia.

That afternoon, Lucia began to feel a bit better, and she rang the bell again.

"I think I'll have some food now," she said to Katie, "If you could have some tea ready, I'll come down in a few minutes."

Sure enough, five minutes later, Lucia was sitting in the kitchen with a tray of freshly-baked muffins in front of her. Katie had been cooking all morning; there were rows of cakes and bread rolls on the sideboard.

Lucia allowed her gaze to drift from the sideboard to the mantelpiece opposite, and suddenly she froze. Her original ancient Chinese vase was missing, a large and magnificent specimen.

"Katie!" she snapped. "Where's my vase?"

"I don't know, madam," the girl stammered.

Lucia thought quickly. It had definitely been in here yesterday, she remembered that. "Who has been in here since yesterday?" she asked.

"Only me, and I invited both Max Fraser and the doctor in here for tea when they each arrived. I suppose either of them could have taken it whilst I was looking the other way, but I'm sure neither of them left with it. It's hard to hide, and none of them carried it."

Lucia thought for a few minutes. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool but her mental skills were still sharp, and after a moment she smiled. "I know who took it," she said.

Who stole the vase? Katie, Max Fraser, or Doctor Pale?


Answer (highlight to read): Max Fraser. He carried a huge bag, big enough for the vase, but left with it empty.