Saturday 16 April 2011

Viper Venom

The viper slided softly over the cold, white body of a young man, making barely a sound. Its pink tongue flickered out, and, tasting the air, changed its course over the man's dead face.

With confident hands, Detective Inspector Carlton picked it up, one hand behind its head, the other holding its scaly body.

"Got it!" he called, and handed it carefully over to the animal expert, who locked it carefully in a safe. "You okay, River?"

River was as white as the corpse in front of them, and had pressed herself against the door. She nodded as she came forward gingerly. "I don't like snakes," she muttered. "Look what it did to him."

The man was in his early thirties, his face frozen in an expression of wide-eyed fear. Kneeling beside him was the forensic pathologist, who was examining a neat pair of bite marks on the man's left calf.

"What have you got, Sarah?" asked Carlton, joining her.

"Clear cause of death," she answered, pointing to the bite marks. "The viper bit him here, see the bruising and the swelling? The venom travelled quickly through the system."

"Accident or murder?" asked River, feeling it was safer to come forward now that the snake was out of the room.

"Or suicide, like Cleopatra?" suggested Carlton.

"Well, certainly not suicide," replied Sarah with a chuckle. "The victim has applied ice to the swelling, which suggests he didn't know that the snake was venomous, and also that he didn't intend it to happen."

"Well, I don't believe it was an accident," replied Carlton. He glanced around the man's flat. "Wherever the snake came from, I doubt it was here."

"You're right there. The door of the flat was locked from the outside, probably to prevent him from getting the medical attention he would have needed when he got bitten."

"Someone locked him in with a viper?" River shuddered. "Stuff of nightmares. No wonder he looks so traumatised."

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a young woman came in. "What's going on?" she asked. "There are half a dozen policemen downstairs, and -" She broke off and screamed when she saw the body, and the two bite marks in the man's leg. "Oh my god, it's Paul!"

At that very moment, she fell down into a dead faint.

When she came round, River was sitting beside her. "Feeling any better?" she asked, as the woman sat up.

"I can't believe he's dead," she said, tears running down her cheeks.

"I know, and we're so sorry for your loss. My name's Kate River, and I promise you, I'm going to do everything I can to find the person who killed Paul. What's your name?"

The woman mopped her eyes. "Yvonne Blake. I'm Paul's fiancĂ©e."

"When did you last see him, Yvonne?" asked River.

"A few weeks ago. I'd been in New York with a friend, and I've only just returned. We were going to get married in next month!" Another bout of tears choked her words, and River put a hand on her arm comfortingly.

"Miss Blake, can you think of anyone who might have wanted Paul dead?" asked Carlton sharply, coming into the room behind her.

"No! Paul was such a sweet guy. I can only hope it was some kind of accident."

"We think that was unlikely," began River, but Yvonne interrupted.

"You don't know anything!" she cried. "Paul was always bringing animals home. He absolutely dedicated to his job - he was a vet - and he was always doing stupid things like this. Sometimes it was a sick parrot he brought home, sometimes a starving kitten. Once it was a rabid dog, and that was bad enough. But a viper? I would have thought he'd have a bit more sense..."

Carlton's eyes met River's, and she nodded. "Miss Blake, you are under arrest for suspicion of murder," he said sharply.

How did he know?

The answer: How did Yvonne know it was a viper that bit him? She only saw the snake bite marks, not the snake itself.

Thursday 7 April 2011

The Pampered Pooch

The workmen unloaded each trunk from the car one by one, groaning under the weight of hundreds of dresses, jewels, make-up and hair extensions that were packed into each one. Through the door they went, up the staircase and into the first room on the right, where the small hand-written card blu-tacked to the door read "Miss E. Hillsdale".

Sat inside on a leather armchair was Miss E. Hillsdale herself, watching through half-closed eyes as the trunks were brought in. Finally, the workmen made one last trip upstairs, this time carrying a small wicker basket in which her Yorkshire Terrier Diamante lay fast asleep.

"Didi!" cried Elena, and one of them men lifted him up out of his basket and placed him in her arms. "Who's Ellie's beautiful little boy then? You are, yes, you are!"

The little terrier barked once snuggled into her arms. Elena looked up suddenly at the workmen, as if she had only just remembered they were there. "Oh, you can leave now," she said casually. "Ask my daughter to come in, would you? And my hairdresser, obviously."

"Yes, miss," mumbled the workman. "Er, which is your hairdresser? Only there are quite a few..."

"For heaven's sake, who do you think I am? Some third rate contestant in a village contest, ready to go on dressed as Miss Greengrocer of the century? Leo Marks is my main hairdresser, he's got his own line of hair products for god's sake! You can't miss him, he's the next door along. Now get a move on, it's only twelve hours til the pageant starts!"

The workmen shuffled out, and Elena sighed and put Diamante back on his cushion - pale blue, of course, to match her famous sapphire blue eyes and the dress that had made her so famous. It was incredible, she thought, how just one dress could turn a whole pageant around. Today's one was a sure-fire winner. Everyone had made that clear to her from the start.

"It's barely worth holding a Mistress Desire contest this year," one magazine had stated. "Elena Hillsdale is sure to carry off all the prizes. The other finalists, Callee Wainwright and Amina Owatche, and won't stand a chance!"

A knock at the door called her out of her reverie, and she looks up to see her daughter Mayflower come into the room silently.

Elena sighed. "May, I've told you. When you come into a room you need to instantly capture the attention of everyone in the room. If you don't do that, you're overlooked instantly. You're ignored."

May nodded once, and turned her pretty head to her mother in a coquettish gesture, and saw her mother's nod of approval. "You asked to see me?"

"I sure did. Leo will be here in a few moments, and you need to be made up as well as me. You've got to dazzle; when I win I'm going to get you up onto the stage so the world can see you for the first time. You need to start early if you're to have a chance at this game. And that's what you want, right?"

May nodded again, this time smiling a little. "Oh yes! More than anything."

"Good. Then you know what to do, I've been teaching you for long enough. Smile, look down and then up, and don't forget the head line."

May nodded, and at that moment Leo came in.

"Hiya!" Leo grinned at Elena. "So, how're we making you look today?"

"Beautiful," replied Elena, and Leo laughed.

"That shouldn't be too tricky, lovely. Okay, let's get to work."

"I want you to do May up as well," instructed Elena, as Leo got to work setting and curling Elena's bleach-blonde hair. "Make her look dazzling. Not straight beautiful, that's my job, but she needs to have sparkle. She's got to be in the mags tomorrow morning, next to me. It's her first public appearance, and first impressions count. She can't be, like, the dowdy brunette with the misfortune to share a name with the world's most famous model. She's got to be out there."

"You know I'll always do my best for you, Ellie," replied Leo. "But there's nothing about Mayflower Hillsdale in my contract. I'm not licensed to do work for her."

"Yeah, but you know me, Leo. You've got to get used to her being around, she'll soon be competing alongside me and you'll have to sort us both out." She trilled her soprano laugh.

"Ah, Ellie, have you forgotten? If you win this pageant, I'm off the team. It's in my contract, I leave soon as you get a new title. I'll have to find myself a new girl to sort out." He sighed. 

"What do you mean, if I win? Of course I'm going to win!"

Leo bit his lip, his usually bright eyes and smile slightly downcast. "Just gotta get the straighteners, lovey," he muttered, and left the room.

Elena's eyes flew open. "Huh? Did I say something?" she asked.

"He likes working for you," replied her daughter, "What's more, he knows you're the best. I was chatting with him yesterday; he says if he ever is no longer your stylist his sales will plummet. He'll go from Hairdresser of the Decade to running a corner salon."

"Nonsense, a guy like him? Don't talk rubbish, May."

May shrugged and sat back down.

"In any case, I can't help but win this," Elena said. "I'm the most beautiful. What?" she asked, in response to her daughter's questioning look. "There's no point being modest about it. Modesty won't win you column inches. Say something outrageous and you'll be headlines. Look at Jake Paine."

May cast her mind back, remembering the time two months ago when Jake Paine, the famous fashion designer, had been in a car accident and been paralysed from the waist down. Elena, after offering her sympathies, was pressed for his life story. She had replied with the tale of her life modelling his products, including several less than savoury stories about his life. There had been an outcry, magazines and papers all over the world wondering how such a sweet, pretty girl could say all that about such a poor, injured man. Yet it had raised Elena's profile at a time when she had been becoming less known, so it was worth it, in her opinion.

"Saw him outside," replied May quietly.

"Don't mumble, girl!" replied Elena. "No-one writes what people mumble. It's not worth it. Now, go and find Leo for me. I can't sit like this for hours."

May rose, and left the room to fetch him.

Several hours later, Elena was almost ready to go. Her eyes smouldered under perfectly-applied make up, her hair fell in a cascade of gold. All that was necessary to complete the look was her award-winning dress, the classic, the one that had made her famous to start with.

"Bring it out!" she called.

There was a gasp as the cupboard door was opened. The dress, which was supposed to be hanging in its dust cover, had been shredded and torn. Scraps of fabric were strewn across the whole wardrobe and even the headdress had been shattered.

Elena screamed and staggered. Tears filled her eyes. "My dress!"

"Don't cry, for god's sake," called the pageant owner. "You need to go on in twenty minutes and your make-up will run."

Elena blinked to dispel the tears. "My god, who could have done this?" she asked weakly. "How can I win now? I've nothing to wear!"

"You could wear one of your other dresses," replied the pageant owner. "The gold with the blue band would go well, you wouldn't have to chance your hair or make-up or anything -"

"No!" screamed Elena, "There are a hundred thousand people out there, waiting to see me in the dress that made me famous! The dress that made me me! They don't want to see some cheap, fake imitation! One of those other bitches will win, not me!"

She spun around to face her stylist. "Did you do this? Because you're leaving?"

"No!" cried Leo. "It wasn't me, I wouldn't do it. I love that dress!"

Who cut the dress?

Answer: It was May. The only people with a motive were Leo, May and Jake. However, Jake, being paralysed and therefore confined to a wheelchair, would have been unable to manage the stairs leading up to the Elena's room. It would have been much easier for May than Leo to cut the dress whilst her mother was busy. She wanted to destroy the dress because she wanted to be her own person, not a shadow of her mother, which was what she knew would happen if her mother won.