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.