Arts, Drama

Whodunnit: ‘The Necklace’

Issue No. 6 in the Whodunnit series. Tap into your inner detective by explaining how Inspector Parnacki believes he knows who the thief is in this case.

IT was past 9pm when Inspector Parnacki arrived at the home of Jackson and Isabella Stone. The snow that had been falling all day had finally stopped a couple of hours earlier, so the journey hadn’t been too unpleasant. He was met at the top of the driveway by a chilly-looking police officer. Parnacki showed the policeman his badge and asked for a report.

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The officer began, “An extremely valuable diamond necklace belonging to Isabella Stone was stolen from the house an hour ago, sir. Mr and Mrs Stone are entertaining longstanding friends this evening, a couple named John and Kathleen Acosta. None of the four report noticing anything suspicious until Mr Stone discovered that a ladder had been placed against the side wall, leading up to the window of the main bedroom. The group searched the house and he found that the necklace had been stolen. I have personally verified that the intruder is not anywhere to be found at the scene. He must have climbed in and out and made his escape before anyone noticed. Everything was in order when the Acostas arrived at 5.30pm, but the crime could have taken place anytime between then and 8.30pm, when the theft was discovered.”

Inspector Parnacki thanked the officer and asked to be shown the ladder. He was then led round the front of the house to the side. The snow was a mess of footprints, both around the house and to and from the small garden shed. The ladder had been placed carefully against the side of the building, reaching up to an open window. Was that something flapping? Parnacki took hold of the ladder and squinted up at the window, flinching slightly as the ladder sank into the snow. The flapping turned out to be just a piece of curtain blowing around in the breeze.

“It came from the shed?”

The officer nodded. “Jackson Stone positively identified it.”

“I should have a word with the Stones and Acostas,” Parnacki said.

The two men then went inside the house and into the sitting room, where the four friends were gathered. It was a pleasant room, neatly furnished and tidy, comfortable rather than prosperous.

After the introductions, Parnacki asked the four to give him their accounts of what happened.

“We didn’t realise anything had happened,” said Isabella Stone. “Not until it was all over, anyway.”

“Yes,” said Jackson Stone. “I went to the bathroom a little before 8.30 and spotted from the window that the ladder was resting against the wall. I couldn’t make sense of it, so once I was finished I popped outside to check, and there it was, out of the shed and running straight up to the bedroom window. So, I came back inside and raised the alarm.”

John Acosta nodded in agreement. “Jack rushed into the room looking most alarmed and told us there might be an intruder in the house. He and I immediately checked to make sure we were safe, while the ladies telephoned the police. I searched downstairs, while Jack looked upstairs. I was quite relieved to discover that no knives appeared to be missing from the kitchen.”

“That’s when I discovered that Isabella’s necklace was missing, and the thief with it,” Jackson said.

“We checked everywhere, inside and out,” said Kathleen Acosta. “No sign of either the necklace or the thief. It’s quite alarming.”

Inspector Parnacki nodded thoughtfully. “And I suppose the four of you have been together all evening?”

“Of course,” said Isabella. “In pairs, anyway. Kathy and I have made a couple of trips to the kitchen.”

“I see,” Parnacki said. “I should remind you, Mr Stone, that insurance fraud can carry a very significant prison and custodial sentence. I trust that the necklace will be found dropped in some suitably convenient location.”

Stone paled, and the other three gasped.

“Good evening,” Parnacki said, and sauntered out.

 

Why does Inspector Parnacki think Jackson Stone is the thief?

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Arts, Drama, Puzzle

Lateral Thinking Drama: ‘The Lost Idol’

THE LOST STATUE OF MANCO CAPAC

The Lost Idol and Statue of Manco Capac

SAVAGE was late. Raybould sipped the last of his Black Russian. He would give the man five more minutes, then depart. He had better things to do than sit in the bar of Grant’s restaurant waiting for some young chancer who couldn’t read a watch.

Two more minutes passed, then the door from the street opened and a man with close-cropped, almost white hair and striking, pale blue eyes emerged into the foyer. He looked around, a faint smile playing over his lips. Raybould recognised Mark Savage at once from the photograph he had sent. He raised a hand to draw his attention.

“Mr Raybould?”

“Mr Savage. You know you are over an hour late?”

“I’m sorry.” The man had a surprisingly deep, mellifluous voice. “I was researching in the library and lost track of time.”

“I trust you have no objection to dining straight away?”

“Of course not.”

Raybould stood. He nodded to the waiter who had appeared discreetly at the door to the restaurant. “Evening, Andre.”

“Good evening, Monsieur Raybould. Your usual table is ready for you.”

Grant’s restaurant was large and genuinely old, with low ceilings and thick oak beams. As well as the main dining area, which was about half-full, there were several smaller rooms leading off. Raybould’s table was in an alcove in one of these. Privacy was guaranteed by thick drapes on three sides, and a curtain that could be pulled on the fourth.

Andre handed them two leather-bound menus. “An aperitif, Monsieur Raybould?”

“Have you any more of that excellent sherry – the Amontillado?”

“Bien sûr, monsieur. And for your guest?”

“Whatever,” Savage said airily. Raybould frowned. Clearly this man had little appreciation of the finer things. Still, no doubt he had more pressing concerns. Well, no time like the present, he thought.

“So, Mr Savage, perhaps you’d like to explain your proposition, and how it may be worth five million pounds to me.”

“Certainly.” Savage looked relieved to be getting down to business. “Three years ago, I was on a trekking holiday in Peru. A friend had told me about the Inca Trail, and I decided I must see it for myself. The trail follows the ancient road that originally linked Cuzco and Machu Picchu, the mysterious ruined city of the Incas.”

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Arts, Drama

Whodunnit: ‘Double Identity’

DOUBLE IDENTITY: A LATERAL THINKING DRAMA & CONUNDRUM 

Sleuth

Issue No. 5 in the Whodunnit series. Tap into your inner detective by solving this case.

Note: This was previously a live case. The real identities of the people concerned have been changed

“I don’t see how they got away, Oliver.” Kaysen Forrest was a big man with a friendly smile for everybody, usually, Today, he was downright serious – a large sum of cash had been stolen from the office of his seedling and nursery business several days beforehand. “I spotted them at the end of the passageway, near the doors. Okay, it was a bit dark, but I clearly saw a pair of men, under six foot, dressed in company overalls. I could see that the one nearest me was carrying a doctor’s medical case. It seemed really strange, so I went after them, and I was through the doors myself in less than thirty seconds. But there was no sign of them at all. The only person out there was Chris Biddle. He heard them run off, but he didn’t see anything. The thing is, my stockyard must be a hundred yards wide, and I can see at least another three hundred yards clear. If they’d gone round the side, they’d have run straight into Chris, and besides, there are fences to climb that way. I’d have definitely heard that. No, they just vanished.”

Oliver James frowned thoughtfully. “It does sound odd. I don’t suppose they could have had a vehicle of some sort?”

Kaysen shook his head. “I don’t believe so, no. I can’t think of anything both fast and silent enough to get out of my line of sight up the road, let alone without making lots of noise. The police clearly thought I’d gone mad. They took the descriptions, and said they’d pursue all leads, but they didn’t seem optimistic. One even pointed out that stolen cash was difficult to recover.”

“Well, why don’t we try another angle. Who knew you had a decent amount of money on site at the time?”

“I bank on Tuesdays. That weekend was unusually good because those orchids I placed in the Imperial had created a lot of interest. So, anyone who was working over the weekend could have guessed – Heather Reeves, Aubrey Fenton, Isaac Brunson, Angelo Delgado, and obviously Chris. But on Tuesday morning, Heather was on the shop floor helping people, Angelo had Monday and Tuesday off, Aubrey was with me in the meeting room we’re in, going over the order lists, Isaac was on the tills, and Chris was tidying the stockyard. Besides, even if one of them had tipped off a couple of goons that it was going to be a good day to turn me over, it doesn’t explain the vanishing act.”

“No,” Oliver said. “It doesn’t, does it. Still, let’s stick with this for a moment. What can you tell me about the staff?”

“Heather’s a real sweetheart. She’s kind and helpful, no matter how rude or bossy the customers get. She’s been here for eighteen months or so. I’ll lose her to marriage one of these days, but I won’t mind, so long as she’s happy. Aubrey has been on board since the start. He’s my right hand. I’d be at sea without him. I can’t face the idea that he might have betrayed me like that. Isaac is a steady hand, if you know what I mean. Been here three years. A very calm and capable young man. He’s awfully sweet on Heather, but he’s too shy to chance his arm. I’m thinking maybe I should provide some better chances for nature to take its course there. He’d look after her, that’s for sure.”

“Chris has worked here for a year or so. He’s quiet, but he’s got deep waters. Surprisingly knowledgeable about all sorts of topics, on account of his being a bookworm. You’ll never catch him without at least something to read. Angelo, finally, has only been working with us for a month or so, but he knows his cultivation practices like nobody’s business. Green thumbs from here to midnight. Get him talking bulbs, and you’ll never shut him up. Where does that get us?”

“I’m not sure,” Oliver confessed. “How about a look at where these guys vanished?”

“Sure, why not?” Kaysen did his best to summon up a smile, but he was clearly finding it difficult to contain his dismay.

The passage from the meeting room led straight through the building towards the back. It was a long, dimly lit corridor of plastered stone, painted in a leafy shade of green. There were several doors along its length, on both sides. Near the end, the corridor met the hallway which ran from the stock entrance straight along the back to the heated storerooms. The staff restroom doors were opposite the end of the passage, separated by a wide mirror. When they got to the junction, Kaysen pointed right, along the back of the building.

“My office is up there. And that’s the stockyard door to the left of the conveniences.”

The wide double-doors out into the stockyard were open. Oliver stepped out and looked around. Kaysen had a point.  The yard was a good hundred yards across. It was dotted with saplings mostly, but none of them big enough to hide a man for more than an instant. The trade gate was at the far side, open, with the road beyond it.

“Kaysen,” Oliver said finally. “I think I know who did this.”

 

Who does Oliver suspect, and why?

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