Cedar Locke and the Missing Brooch

     Cedar was sitting on the piano stool, but facing out into the room. The piano was on a slightly raised platform, and Cedar couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on stage, waiting for the curtain to rise.

     Before him, Ms Graychart had managed to assemble the persons of interest in a murmuring cluster of hushed anticipation. Lady Ashbury was sat at the edge of a dining chair, her fingers clasped tightly in her lap. A now jacketless Lord Ashbury hovered nearby, a hand placed on his wife’s shoulder, now and then moving it to rest his thumb on an outer project of his waistcoat. Meadows stood back, arms crossed, and looking around the room with unfamiliarity. Mikey fidgeted restlessly, busying himself by tidying up stray pieces of dust and fluff.

     “I’ve asked Barnsley to bring Professor Brooke through when he returns,” Ms Graychart said quietly, “Hopefully, they won’t be long.”

     Cedar inclined his head, before tilting it back and closing his eyes. He felt tired, in need of a quiet night’s sleep. He heard the ballroom door open, and lifted a heavy head to see Barnsley and Professor Brooke, clutching his hat and briefcase in his hand, coming through. They made their way over in a series of echoing steps. The professor placed his briefcase down, before shrugging off his coat, arranging it carefully on the back of a chair and taking the seat himself. Cedar saw him and Lord Ashbury exchange a raising of the eyebrows. A successful meeting earlier perhaps, mingled with a curiosity as to the purpose of this one. Barnsley moved to stand behind Lord and Lady Ashbury, with impeccable posture.

     There was a beat of silence. The walls swirled with the waltzing spectrum of light. Cedar took a deep breath.

     “Thank you for coming here tonight,” he began, his voice steady. “I believe I have unraveled the mystery surrounding the missing brooch.”

     There was a murmur. Excitement? Anticipation? Lady Ashbury’s hand had moved to her chest and she let out a soft gasp. Cedar continued.

     “You all know that Lady Ashbury asked me to look into its disappearance. It was last seen on a dressing table in a locked bedroom during the night of the Winter Ball. You are here, because we believe that you were the only people who had the opportunity to take the brooch between then and its absence. You were, in one way or another, all suspects of theft.

     “This case had me perplexed. There was no one person with a motive to take the brooch, and many of you lacked the ability to get through the door. Indeed, it may surprise you to know that, for much of the time, my main suspect was Lord Ashbury.”

     The burble through the gathered suspects rose to a babble. Lord Ashbury steely looked up into Cedar’s eyes.

     “I am not the thief,” said Lord Ashbury slowly, “But I can already understand why you say this. I had both the means and the opportunity. I have already explained that I stepped away from Professor Brooke for a few minutes, and you know that I have the only other key to the bedroom. But I have no reason to take the brooch in such surreptitious and frankly suspicious circumstances. It is a family heirloom. It was secured in my family vault. I could have simply walked in and taken it at any time if I so wanted.

     “But…,” he said, turning to his wife and patting her hand gently, “It belongs to my wife. I would never deprive you of this. I know how much it means to you.”

     Cedar dipped his head, “Indeed. If that alone was not enough, you also know that the brooch has little monetary value.”

     Lady Ashbury drew in a short breath as her husband hung his head slightly.

     “You are right,” said Lord Ashbury, “I did know this. Yet I have failed to mention it to my dear Arabella. I did not want her to feel as if the brooch should mean less than we know it does.”

     Lady Ashbury’s expression softened as she looked up at her despondent husband.

     “It’s quite alright Danny,” she said, cupping his face in her hand. “It reminds me so of Clement, and those wonderful days of summers past with him and your dear mother. That is worth more to me than all the gold in Altador.”

     Lord Ashbury pressed his hand over hers and they stayed there for a moment. When they lowered their hands, Cedar noticed that they were still holding one another, fingertips interlocked. He cleared his throat self-consciously. He felt an unexpected lump in his through

     “You see”, he resumed, “the only person who had both means and opportunity would not have taken the brooch. This had left me stumped. Until, that is, a thought occurred to me whilst looking out from the balcony. On the night the brooch disappeared, the balcony door had been unlocked and opened by Mikey. But only after Lady Ashbury found the brooch missing. It was, therefore, unlikely that anyone had made their way into the room from the outside. Elsewise, the door would have been unlocked.

     “There was only one explanation. The brooch must have never left the room. However, her ladyship has explained that Barnsley and Lord Ashbury turned the room upside down, and failed to find the brooch. I believe them. By then, the brooch can no longer have been in the room. How do we reconcile these positions? Where and when did the brooch disappear?

     “It was then that I saw a Springabee, flying away from the balcony. I had the strangest thought. Scarabs, as Professor Brooke will tirelessly attest, were once used as weapons in ancient Sakhmet. It seems that a particularly uncommon form of scarab is known as a Flying Scarab. Unlike most other scarabs, this one possesses the ability to fly. Ms. Graychart, if you could read the indicated section at page 251.”

     Ms. Graychart looked around surprised, but took the book from Cedar and dutifully turned to the page, where Cedar had left a sticky note pointing at a particular passage.

     “Let me see,” she began, “Here we are. According to the author of “101 Uses for a Scarab, the eminent Dr. Brown, “... The Flying Scarab will, when correctly activated, fly around the room seeking an enemy to charge. It makes an unmistakable buzzing sound, as its wings clip together in flight…”

     “Meadows,” said Cedar, as Ms. Graychart trailed off, “You said you heard buzzing in the house. You attributed this to your hearing. I believe you actually heard the buzzing of an activated Flying Scarab in the bedroom. Although I cannot know for sure, I believe that the scarab was caught up somewhere, the curtains perhaps, and when the balcony doors were opened, it flew out into the night, unnoticed”

     “You mean to say,” said Lady Ashbury, clutching her husband's hand tightly, “that my brooch has taken to the gardens?”

     “Exactly.” confirmed Cedar, “I think you activated, albeit unintentionally, the scarab when putting it down and it took flight when you left the room.”

     “We must go right away,” blustered Lord Ashbury, “send out a search party for the grounds. Perhaps it has even fled out into the city. Barnsley, go fetch Mr. Brentwood and gather the staf…”

     Cedar held up a hand. “There is no need Lord Ashbury. I have already recovered the brooch. Dr. Brown has provided a helping hand here as well. Ms. Graychart, page 257 if you please.”

     “... it was once common for a rich Sakhmetian to own multiple Flying Scarabs that could be synchronously activated. As such, Flying Scarabs were designed to follow the buzzing of other Flying Scarabs so that they might attack simultaneously for devastating impact… ”

     From his pocket, Cedar produced the missing brooch. He could not help but do so with a slight flourish of his hand. It lay gracefully immobile in his hands, sparkling gently in the last remnants of the setting sun.

     “It was down by the Springabee hives,” he explained, passing it over to a misty-eyed Lady Ashbury, who took it in both hands and brought it towards her heart. “It had followed the buzzing of the Springabees home. I found it lying amongst the leaves. My sister always used to say that one should tell it to the Springabees before embarking on anything of import. Perhaps, if I had heeded her advice, the mystery would have been solved long before now.”

     “Golly”, said Mikey, “so the brooch had never been stolen after all?”

     “Right. It was just doing what it was meant to do.”

     “Mr. Locke,” spoke up Lady Ashbury, “I am ever so grateful. This means more to me than you can know. I am so pleased that none here were responsible. Of course, I never had any doubts, but it is good to allay all possible fears aside.”

     Cedars could sense the palpable shift to relief in the ballroom. Shoulders relaxed and smiled were raised again. After a short while, those gathered split off and away. Meadows, grumbling that Cedar had better not have disturbed her Springabees, was the first to retreat, back to her cottage in the grounds. Professor Brooke made his apologies as well, claiming a need to write an order list for Mr. Leach, shortly before Mikey was summoned away by Mr. Brentwood, the butler.

     Barnsley cordially led Cedar and Ms. Graychart back to the atrium, leaving Lord and Lady Ashbury behind in the ballroom, both discussing memories of the brooch. Cedar could hear them hooting about a time that a certain Baron von Neovia mistook it for a Pinchot.

     “My personal thanks for your help,” said Barnsley to them both, with a small bow of her head, “I am confident that her Ladyship will be in touch shortly to handle any remuneration required.”

     “I’m sure,” replied Cedar, inclining his head in return. “Appreciate your help today. One last thing. Could you return this to Professor Brooke?”

     He handed over the book on scarabs to Barnsley, who took it elegantly before bidding them farewell. Cedar and Ms. Graychart left the house and crunched down the path towards the front gates.

     “Well goodnight Mr. Locke,” said Ms Graychart formally, as they reached the entrance. “How will you spend your evening?”

     Cedar looked up at the stars. It was a clear night. Still young. There was the scent of pinecones and honey dancing on the breeze. He wondered if he could scrape together enough coins for a Borovan. At the very worst he could get another coffee.

     “I may well treat myself tonight Ms. Graychart,” said Cedar.

     Walking together for a time, Cedar and Ms. Graychart walked down the boulevard, across the river bridge and down towards the edgier part of town where the shadows crept and the raucous sound of laughter spilled from warmly lit coffee shops, beckoning the tired neopian in for a rest after a long day of work. Cedar couldn’t resist the temptation and pressed into the throng, bidding Ms. Graychart a good night and farewell.

     The End.