The Mysterious Affair at Gremble Arms

      “Right. The plant in the hallway. And you didn’t see the door opening and closing behind him… how?” Jake asked dubiously. As much as the Kougra didn’t seem remotely convinced by Mr. Blom’s theory, he also hadn’t made any move to stop the Tuskaninny from demanding the humiliating search of Kiyoshi’s person.

      “Well, because… because I was busy washing up, of course! Not to mention the blind spots behind this dratted mask!” Mr. Blom spluttered, ripping the offending accessory from his face. “I put my pocket watch next to the basin, took my eyes off of it for perhaps all of ten seconds, and then it was gone! It’s the only possible explanation! No one else was close enough to do it!”

      Tyra hovered anxiously a few feet away from Kiyoshi, and apart from the chastising look she shot him when he started methodically removing the small river stones from the interior pockets of his suit jacket (he hadn’t brought his slingshot, but he also hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of showing up to this thing completely defenceless), she seemed to be doing her utmost best to avoid his gaze. He felt a little abandoned as he finished pulling the last pieces of lint from his pants pockets and stood, allowing Mr. Blom to proceed with patting him down so thoroughly it felt like the Tuskaninny was hoping to leave bruises.

      “You missed a spot, mate,” Jeri said, uncharacteristic acid in his tone as he took a step towards the Tuskaninny. “I think it was in your brain, where good ideas are s’posed to come from. Want me to pat it out for ya?”

      Mr. Blom shrank away from the Bori but was still stubborn enough to snap in Kiyoshi’s direction, “Confound it all, boy! Where are you hiding it?”

      “Mr. Blom, that’s enough,” said Jake sharply. “You’ve more than proven that Mr. Paco doesn’t have your watch, or Madame Soffleberg’s necklace, for that matter. What more do you want?”

      “I want our blasted things back!” seethed the Tuskaninny. “This doesn’t prove anything! He still could have stashed them somewhere!”

      “Where?” asked Jake. “There’s nowhere to hide anything in the hallway, and if you really did see your watch just seconds before—“

      “Well then, what about the mastermind?” Mr. Blom rounded on Tyra. “Magena could have done it herself! Who had eyes on her?”

      “I did,” said Minerva. “After Madame Soffleberg left the lounge—pardon me, the interview room—Mr. Kugar stepped out to have a word with Mr. Oritz. I can confirm that Ms. Magena remained with me in the room until the moment we heard the commotion in the hallway.”

      “Oh, and that’s your word, is it?” Mr. Blom retorted, almost petulant. “Unless, of course, you’re in on it too, Madame Owner. Perhaps, being privy to her schemes, there was a little financial incentive for you to look the other way while Magena slunk off to the lavatory, eh? Actually, there’s a thought, have we considered secret passageways yet? This style of building always has a few—“

      “Between the lounge and the lavatory?” Baxter asked incredulously.

      “Mr. Blom!” Jake shouted, and the silence was so immediate it was like a switch had been flipped. No one moved, no one breathed; the faces of the crowd were stunned as if from a physical blow. Kiyoshi was positive it was the first time anyone here had ever heard the amiable Kougra raise his voice.

      Jake was nothing short of livid as he turned on the Tuskaninny. “In all my years, I have never heard such baseless and hateful accusations come from a member of this guild,” he snarled. “I’ve been very patient with you tonight, Mr. Blom, but the lack of respect you have for your colleagues and all the kind workers here who’ve done nothing but help us through every stage of this disastrous evening is frankly shameful. While you’re here, you’re an ambassador for the Guild of Explorers. Act like one, or I’ll make sure you can’t pretend to be one anymore. Do I make myself clear?”

      Mr. Blom, whose colour had quickly drained to match the hue of a much paler pink Tuskaninny, seemed to receive the implied threat loud and clear. Rather than risk speaking again, he nodded sheepishly, then sank back into the crowd.

      Jake crouched down and began silently picking up Kiyoshi’s collection of pebbles, one by one. He didn’t ask what they were for and neither did anyone else in the ballroom. Finally, he stood back up and tipped them gently into the hands of the dumbfounded Shoyru.

      “The trails we blaze become the streets of the cities we live in,” Jake said to the assembled guests. “Remember that.”

      “I’m done,” said Tyra. “That’s it. No more playing detective. I’m sitting right here and shutting up until morning. Until the actual authorities are here to take care of this.”

      “But you’ve only interviewed one person,” Dalton said.

      Kiyoshi, Tyra, Dalton, Jake and Minerva were back in the lounge. This time, no one wasted any time availing themselves of the plush chairs—except for Kiyoshi, whose physical exhaustion was offset by the electric anxiety buzzing in his veins, only becoming harder and harder to ignore as the night wore on. He instead took up a post near one of the windows, staring out at the wet snow blowing through the blackness. He was perfectly happy to let let the others speak. Or argue.

      “I’m not your comet-kissing detective,” said Tyra. “I came here tonight hoping to make connections and I’ve just made all my bad ones worse. If I were only sabotaging myself that’d be one thing, but I’m not. I dragged my best friend into this, and now he’s getting the worst of everything this guild has to offer.”

      Kiyoshi glanced her way. He’d been trying to ignore the vague knot of betrayal that had been twisting around his gut since Blom’s shakedown, but now he felt it loosen slightly.

      Even slumped back in an armchair, the Aisha was staring fiercely at Dalton. “So I’m done. I can’t erase the harm I’ve caused, but I don’t have to play into your childish whodunnit fantasy and fuel everyone’s conspiracy theories any more than I have already.”

      From the chair directly across from her, Dalton watched her for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. “Fine,” he said at last. “But you won’t ever know who did it.”

      “I don’t care.”

      “It could have been Blom. It could have been your next sponsor, your next research partner. It could have been me, for Fyora’s sake. You’ll never solve this mystery.”

      “I really don’t think this is a mystery,” Kiyoshi said.

      Dalton’s eyes flicked his way. “Spoken like someone who already knows the answer.”

      Tyra rolled her eyes and made a noise of disgust but it was Jake spoke up first. “I thought we had already established that Mr. Paco couldn’t have been the thief, Mr. Oritz.” There was a definite note of warning in the Kougra’s voice.

      Dalton tutted. “I’m not saying he was. But I think anyone is capable of hiding things for their own reasons. I like to know what those reasons are. Then I can decide if I need to be concerned with the secrets they’re keeping.”

      Kiyoshi spread his arms. “So interview me. Maybe I’ll give something away. Someone’ll mess up in the interviews, that’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

      “I did say that,” said Dalton.

      “Leave him alone,” said Tyra tiredly.

      “I’m not sure I can really afford to,” said Dalton. He tapped the padded arm of his chair thoughtfully as he surveyed the faces around him. “Since it seems I’ve lost my detective.”

      Tyra’s shoulders tensed as her hands balled into fists. “Don’t play this game with me, Oritz. You can’t manipulate me by threatening my friends.”

      “It’s not a threat,” Dalton said, unperturbed. “If the detective were to claim a suspect is beyond reproach, none of us would have any reason to pursue that lead any further. Get it? We’re already playing a game. All of us. I’m just enough of a gentleman to lay the stakes out plainly where you can see them.” He gestured at Kiyoshi, but kept his gaze on her. “Are you saying they aren’t good enough for you?”

      Kiyoshi took an angry step forward at the same time as Jake opened his mouth to speak, but Dalton cut them both off with a broad swiping motion. “Ah-ah—I’m asking Tyra. If you two can’t let her answer this on her own, what kind of message does that send to her, huh?”

      Kiyoshi and Jake exchanged a glance. The Kougra eventually settled back in his chair with a small shake of his head. Fuming, Kiyoshi clenched his teeth but managed to hold himself back as well.

      Tyra took a long time to answer, forcing Dalton to cook under her white-hot glare. Finally, she slammed a hand down on the table, yanking the pen and papers back her way. With pure ice in her voice, she snapped at Dalton, “Get me that Nimmo who was in the kitchen.”

      No one told him to leave the lounge, but no one asked him to stay either, so Kiyoshi quietly let himself out while Dalton was still off fetching the Chef. Tyra had been furiously scribbling away on the pad when he left and he didn’t think there was much he could do to help her at the moment anyway, apart from maybe giving her a little space and hoping she made better decisions without him there.

      He found Aidne and Jeri sitting near the same plant stand where they had been searching for Madame Soffleberg’s necklace earlier that evening. The two of them had managed to secure a couple of chairs, and even though they were clearly enjoying the chance to rest their feet both pets were quick to offer their seats up to the Shoyru as he approached. He declined with a shake of his head, instead sliding down the mirrored wall to sit on the cool marble floor with his legs stretched out.

      “Howzzat for a shindig, huh?” said Jeri, reaching down to vigorously ruffle Kiyoshi’s hair. “Real rip-snortin’ good time for all. I was just about ready to turn that Blom into our piñata.”

      “Everyone keeps telling me that going to a party won’t kill me,” said Kiyoshi dully. “But so far my odds aren’t looking good.”

      “Yeah, awright, this one’s a bust, I’ll give ya that,” Jeri said with a sigh. “But chin up, mate. There’s always next year’s gala, ‘fter all. They can’t all be like this.”

      “No,” said Aidne, head tipped back against the glass behind her, “no, this is actually about how they usually go. With minor variations.”

      Kiyoshi rubbed his nose where it had been recently and forcibly acquainted with the wall. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we’re all still here. It’s not like anyone’s gonna feel like dancing after all this. I think we’re kinda past that point.” He untied the strings of his mask and pulled it away from his face, wincing as it got tangled in his hair. “I think we’re past a lot of points.”

      “It is gettin’ a bit hard to keep my mind off that snuggly warm bed waitin’ for me upstairs,” Jeri admitted. “What about you? Are you an’ Tyra bunkin’ down here tonight too?”

      “Nah,” Kiyoshi said. He remembered Tyra’s voice from a few days ago: Well, we can afford a night at the hotel, or we can afford shoes. He had suggested they save money by getting neither, which she hadn’t appreciated. “We were gonna camp out. Head back to Neopia Central in the morning.”

      Aidne raised an eyebrow. “You really do like doing everything the hard way, doncha?”

      “Builds character,” said Kiyoshi.

      “Well,” Jeri mused, “I wonder when they’ll let all the resta us folks who’re happy with our characters the way they are go up to our rooms.”

      “Probably not anytime soon,” said Aidne ruefully. “The way Dalton’s running things.”

      “Who is this Dalton guy anyway?” the Bori sulked, crossing his huge digging paws in front of him. “Who put him in charge?”

      “I mean… we did, really,” said Aidne. “Or at least we all decided we were okay with him taking charge. The Guild of Explorers is full of people like him—people who can take control of a room through force of personality alone. Jake’s like that too. Only, y’know. Different.”

      “Why is Jake going along with this?” asked Kiyoshi. “He doesn’t even seem to like Dalton. If he’s so good at leading, why doesn’t he step in?”

      “I think he tried, at the beginning,” the Zafara said with a shrug. “It’s just that Dalton’s style of doing things appealed to people more this time around. ‘Sides, Jake woulda known we had to do something to keep everyone from freaking out, and I guess Dalton’s little mystery game is as good as anything else for that. At least it’s mostly been harmless so far.”

      “Harmless and annoying,” said Jeri.

      Aidne grunted in acknowledgment. “Don’t worry. It’ll only last as long as his confidence does.”

      “Or everybody else’s confidence in him,” Jeri muttered, staring across the ballroom at the doorway into the lounge.

      It was as Kiyoshi let his eyes wander away from the lounge that he saw it: a reflection in the mirrored wall that didn’t belong to anyone there. That couldn’t belong to anyone there. The image of the Pteri dipped quickly out of frame, right next to the hallway leading to the….

      “Bathroom,” Kiyoshi said, springing to his feet.

      “Uh, okay,” said Aidne, looking a little concerned. “Better hurry?”

      Kiyoshi darted along the back wall of the ballroom until he got to the hallway, then slowed to a walk. Casual, he told himself. Like I’m just here to answer nature’s call. As he walked, he surreptitiously popped one of the shiny brass buttons off the cuff of his jacket. It would have to do.

      Intentionally ignoring the gilded mirror outside the lavatories, Kiyoshi pushed open the door to the men’s room, let it close gently behind him, and locked it. Then, with his privacy assured, he turned to face the washstand. The room was barely larger than a closet, lit by a single flickering lamp on the emerald-papered wall. It was just enough to dimly illuminate the large oval mirror above the basin, attractively framed in dark polished wood but quite plain compared to its decorative counterpart in the hall. It didn’t matter what it was made of, though. Kiyoshi was only interested in what might be in it.

      All the same, he avoided looking directly at the mirror as he placed his brass button on the table next to the basin and made a show of slowly washing his hands. For good measure, he took a few extra seconds to splash his face, seconds that he knew the button would have to spend unsupervised. When he finished wiping his face on his sleeve, though, he was disappointed to see that the button was still there.

      But he wasn’t the only one looking at it now.

      The Shoyru froze. In a momentary flash of self-consciousness no doubt intensified by the mirror in front of him, he suddenly felt very ridiculous—like he was a desperate birdwatcher trying not to scare away a rare Pawkeet, caught halfway up the tree with a bag of birdseed in his teeth. In the mirror it seemed like the Pteri maid was standing right behind his shoulder, staring through the reflection into his flesh-and-blood eyes. But he knew he was still alone in the lavatory, could sense no one else in the room with him. Cecilia, as impossible as her appearance was, was an appearance only. Except this time, she spoke.

      “I know what you’re doing,” she said. Her voice wasn’t cold, as such—just flat, like it hadn’t been used in a long while. And, most disconcertingly, it sounded like it was coming from where she should have been standing: right behind him.

      “You’re trying to trick me.”

      “No,” Kiyoshi said quickly. “No, I’m sorry. I just wanted to meet you.”

      Cecilia’s image wavered, her dark curls falling into her face. “No one ever wants to meet me. You’re afraid of me.”

      “No—“

      “You hate me.”

      “What? No, why would I hate you? You seem…” Kiyoshi faltered. “Nice?”

      Cecilia stared at him from over his shoulder for another long moment. Then she seemed to move backwards in the frame. “Don’t try and trick me again.” Her voice was definitely moving away from him, and for a split second he almost got confused enough to turn around—but he was absolutely positive that if he did, she’d disappear instantly like she had before.

      “Wait!” he blurted, gripping the edges of the washstand with both hands. “You’re looking for something, aren’t you? Tell me what it is!”

      “It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice a little wistful. She retreated far enough back that her image disappeared completely behind his own. “I’ll get it back eventually.”

      “Just tell me what it is! I can help—!”

      He spun around, but he already knew she was gone. In frustration, he slammed a hand down on the washstand, swiping up his button.

      He must have opened the lavatory door more forcefully than he meant to, because the Neopet standing in the hall a short ways away gave a surprised start at his sudden appearance.

      “Whoa,” said Cherry, who was standing in front of the staff portraits and holding an apple turnover without a plate. Tiny flakes of pastry drifted to the floor like snow as she blinked at him. “Rough time in there?”

      Kiyoshi took a breath to calm himself. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’m just not good at parties.”

      “Word,” she said, turning back to the portraits.

      Kiyoshi hesitated. He’d actually been hoping to spend some more time looking at the photos himself, wondering if he might not be able to gather some clues about whatever it was that was keeping Cecilia trapped here—but now he felt he had no choice but to relinquish the space to Cherry and crawl back to the ballroom with his tail between his legs, at least until the Cybunny got bored. In the end, though, he couldn’t stop his curiosity from taking control of his feet.

      “What are you looking at?” he said, coming to stand next to her. “I would've thought you’d be trying to get into the lounge. Isn’t that where all the action’s at?”

      “Eh. Detective fiction’s not my jam,” she said. “Too many names to keep track of. I like a good unsolved case though.” She drifted down the wall and pointed. “Didja see this picture of The Gremble Arms Mark One? It really does look the same. Spooky.” She studied the photo for a moment. “I wish I had been there to see it burn down.”

      Kiyoshi took so long to process what the elegantly dressed Cybunny had just said that she actually turned to look at him with a questioning head tilt of her own.

      Eventually, he managed, ”…What?”

      “I wish I got to see what it looked like. And just, to be around something like that while it’s happening.” She took a bite of turnover and hummed. “D’you think people in a ghost story know they’re in a ghost story? Or are they like us, and just waste all their time insisting they aren’t?”

      “That’s… unbelievable,” Kiyoshi said, the shock tearing an opening in his guard and exposing raw honesty faster than he could patch it back up. “That’s an unbelievable thought to have. People died. It was a tragedy. How can you say you want that?”

      Cherry shrugged. “Dunno. It’s a little exciting though, right? Real life’s pretty dull. There’ve been a couple times in my life I’ve wished I could burn down a building or something, just to shake things up a little. And if I knew there was an evil spirit hiding in the ashes, you wouldn’t be able to keep me away.”

      “Are you out of your mind?” Kiyoshi was reeling. “How can you just stand there talking about this like it’s… like it’s some kind of made-up fairy tale, when the faces of all the people who died are staring right at you? Minerva Moss lived through it. And now she has to live with it. And to live with all these unhinged socialites wandering around her home draped in diamonds, whining about how nothing exciting ever happens to them.”

      “Dude,” she said. “It’s not that deep, Ghost Boy. Chill.”

      He gave a short laugh, feeling a little unhinged himself. “Are you for real? Chill? I’m beginning to think chilling is all anyone here knows how to do.” He stared at her, shaking his head. “What is wrong with you?”

      Cherry just watched him, stone-faced, as the silence rang in between them. She didn’t even seem to remember the half-eaten pastry in her paw. Then, at last, she tossed her head back, making an exasperated noise.

      “Changed my mind,” she said, disappointment clearly written across her cute features. “You’re pretty boring after all, Ghost Boy.”

      “Tell me something I don’t know.”

      She brushed past him, stuffing the rest of the turnover in her mouth. “I liked you better with your mask on,” she grumbled through the pastry, barely audible as she stalked off towards the ballroom.

      As he watched her go with his head still spinning, he heard a soft cough from the nearby kitchen.

      “Yeah, okay, I know, I’m go—“ He stopped with his mouth open when he realized that the person standing in the kitchen doorway was not the Nimmo Chef he had been expecting, but Minerva Moss herself.

      “Oh,” he said. “Oh, right, they’re interviewing the Chef. Sorry. I’m not trying to sneak out. I just got. Distracted. I’ll go back now.”

      But Minerva stopped him with a raised hand. “You don’t need to go. I just wanted to convey my gratitude for your… passionate defence of my staff, and of my person.” The white Draik gave a small smile that sparkled her eyes in the lamplight. “But you needn’t worry on our behalf. It’s nothing we’re not quite used to.”

      Kiyoshi looked away, feeling his cheeks heating up. “That was stupid of me,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have brought you into it. I’m just really beginning to hate this dumb ghost story.”

      “Oh?” Minerva seemed genuinely surprised. “I got the impression you were quite interested in it.”

      “I was,” he said. “But now it just seems kind of mean, I guess. Besides. ‘Gremble Arms is not haunted’, right?”

      Slowly, Minerva nodded. “I see. You’ve been listening to Sabina.”

      “What do you think?” Kiyoshi asked her. “Do you believe there’s a wicked ghost lurking in the walls of this hotel, hungry for treasure?”

      “No,” the Draik said simply. “But what I know for certain is that there’s a terribly lonely young woman who’s been trapped in here with us for forty years.”

      Taken aback, Kiyoshi just said, “Oh.”

      “Jasper said you were looking at the photographs earlier,” said Minerva. She nodded towards the end of the row, where the larger group photos were hung. “What did you think of them?”

      “I… I like them,” he said truthfully. “Everyone looks so happy. It's like... I can actually feel their happiness through the pictures. Like those feelings have been preserved.”

      “I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “They make me happy too. Yet, it’s been my experience that there are a great many people in this world who find the happiness of service workers to be dreadfully boring, or even improper. So when I was deciding where to display our memories in the new hotel, I knew it would be best for me to keep them to the servants’ corridors, off the beaten path as far as our guests are concerned. Unfortunately, while our collection of memories kept growing over the years, the same couldn’t be said for the length of the wall.”

      “They can’t all be good memories.”

      “Of course not," Minerva chuckled. "Even amongst ourselves, sometimes we get so tired of one another that we can barely stand to be in the same room.” She smiled kindly. “But that’s family for you.”

      “You’re all very close,” Kiyoshi remarked, and Minerva nodded.

      “It’s only natural,” she said, a more sombre expression falling over her face. “Our reputation precedes us, after all. It’s become very difficult for us to find and retain staff in any capacity. Those of us who do work here often stay because we have no other home to go back to. The notable exception, of course, being Sabina, whose family lives in a lovely home just a few streets away.”

      “She didn’t say… much, earlier,” Kiyoshi said, and he thought even that might be an overstatement when he thought back to how the Poogle had stormed off after Cherry's ghost story. “Why did Sabina come to work here?”

      The Draik hummed thoughtfully, her tail flicking back and forth. “It’s not really my place to say,” she decided. “Let’s just say she takes after her grandmother, who’s long since retired but also worked here once upon a time. And who was—and still is—a very dear friend to all of us from those days.”

      “And probably to Cecilia,” he murmured.

      Minerva’s tail stiffened and she looked at him sharply. Then, with apparent effort, she began to slowly relax. “Yes,” she said softly. “And to Cecilia.”

      Kiyoshi glanced over his shoulder, but the hallway was empty. “Why doesn’t she leave?” he asked quietly. “What’s keeping her here?”

      “I don’t know,” said Minerva, her voice barely above a whisper. A tear rolled down the crease of her cheek but she didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t think she remembers. You must understand, she’s been lost for almost forty years. She doesn’t appear very often anymore, and she almost never speaks to us. But I can’t truthfully say I’d even want her to go. She was my friend too.”

      “She’s in pain.”

      Minerva nodded, her eyes and lips scrunching together as she pressed her sleeve up to her face. “Yes. Yes, she is in pain.”

      Kiyoshi had a feeling that a more socially adept Neopet would have offered her a hug or a shoulder pat or some other kind of physical reassurance, but he was not that Neopet. So he just said, “I’m going to find out what she’s looking for. And then I’m going to get it for her, so all of you can get the rest that you deserve. And then I’m going to give this ghost story an ending.”

      Minerva lowered her arm and studied him with red-ringed eyes. Numerous emotions vied for placement in her expression: surprise, puzzlement, wariness. Her voice, by contrast, was strikingly level as she asked, “Why would you do that?”

      “Because I’m Kiyoshi Paco,” he said, “and I’m pretty boring.”

      A new emotion flickered in Minerva’s eyes, small and tentative. But this time, it looked a little like hope. “Alright,” she said. “If you're sincere about helping, then you should speak with her first. Come with me.”

      “Where?” he asked as she led him into the kitchen. Apart from the piles of dirty dishes piled high around the washbasin and several under-construction platters of canapés on the countertops, the room was deserted. The unassuming service door in the back corner seemed to be the only way out of the room besides the doorway they’d just come through, but that didn’t seem to be where she was taking him. “Is it far?”

      “Not at all,” she said, coming up short next to the dumbwaiter. “I know a shortcut.” Her claws found a gap in the wood that Kiyoshi wouldn’t have noticed at all, and the entire dumbwaiter assembly swung out smoothly, revealing a respectable Neopet-sized doorway leading into a dark corridor on the other side.

      Kiyoshi gave her a look. “…A secret passageway.”

      Her smile held a hint of mischief as she beckoned him onwards, slipping into the shadows herself. “This style of building always has a few.”

      After she closed the door behind them Kiyoshi was expecting to be met with pure darkness, but a faint light seemed to be beckoning them towards the other end of the hallway. The passage was indeed quite short, and after barely a dozen paces the Draik was pushing open a windowed door. Soft golden light spilled into the hallway, and an icy breeze lifted goosebumps on the Shoyru’s skin.

      “This is the veranda.”

      They stepped out at one end of a covered walkway that was something like a long gallery, with one side forming the exterior wall of the hotel and the other supported by wooden columns but otherwise open to the elements. A steep cliff dropped off the open side of the gallery just on the other side of the balustrade—revealing what, in clearer weather, would likely have been a breathtaking view of the Neovian valley below. As it was, however, the rest of the village was only faintly discernible as wavering pinpricks of light winking in and out beyond the billowing plumes of snow. After being stuck indoors for so long, Kiyoshi could feel relief seeping into every cell of his body in spite of the chill.

      Minerva carefully closed the hidden door on this side, which Kiyoshi could now see took the form of a tall frame of stained glass depicting white lilies on a richly coloured background. Once it was closed, it appeared to be nothing more than a decorative panel set against solid wall, matching another pane at the far end of the veranda.

      “We used to slip out this way whenever we needed a break,” Minerva said. She indicated the rickety old benches running along the wall, then pointed to a set of closed double doors halfway down, flanked on each side by a familiar series of stained glass windows providing the veranda with its sole source of light—a dreamlike glow that flickered with the movement of bodies on the other side of the wall. “That’s the ballroom on the other side. Our valet, Piotr, is watching the doors inside, but he won’t bother anyone out here. And you needn’t worry about being seen through the windows. It’s much too bright in the ballroom. Just keep your voice down and you should be fine.”

      The veranda seemed sturdy enough, but something about it made Kiyoshi feel strangely vulnerable as he took his first tentative step down the walkway and looked around. “Why would Cecilia be out here? Doesn’t she need a mirror?”

      “No. She needs a reflection.” Minerva drifted towards the nearest window and gazed up at its intricate night sky scene, her expression decidedly melancholy. “I think this place was her favourite part of the old Gremble Arms. It’s certainly where we’ve most often encountered her in the years since we rebuilt. And when she’s here, I’ve often found that she feels… closer, somehow. We’ve kept the glass very well-polished for her.”

      Kiyoshi moved forwards until he could see both of their images looking back at them—just the two of them, for the moment. “And she’ll be here?”

      “There’s no way to know for certain.” Minerva shrugged. “We’ll go months without seeing her sometimes. But it seems she’s active tonight, so this is as good a place as any to start looking.”

      Kiyoshi was beginning to feel a little daunted by the true scope of what he’d promised, but was pulled out of his thoughts by a sudden cry from the other side of the wall—muffled, but distress clearly audible in the sound.

      “Oh!” said Minerva. “There she is.”

      The two pets dashed back through the secret corridor and kitchen, Minerva moving much more nimbly than her age would suggest. No one noticed them as they burst onto the scene in the ballroom—everyone’s attention was on the agitated pastel Poogle framed by the doorway leading out to the lobby, who was trembling and twisting the edge of her apron so tightly it was visibly beginning to fray. Once they had gotten close enough for the Poogle to see them, however, she immediately stopped fidgeting and flung herself at the Concierge.

      “Minnie! Minnie, it’s gone!”

      “What—you—?” The Draik seemed stunned as Sabina fell into her arms, sobbing. “But—“

      Sabina looked up at her with wild and teary eyes. “Minnie, it’s my ring! My ring is gone!”

      “A servant now?” boomed Mr. Blom. “This is getting out of hand! Somebody do something!”

      “Mr. Blom…“ started Jake, but he looked as bewildered as everyone else.

      “We are doing something,” Dalton said. “Detective Magena’s on the case, remember?”

      A chorus of groans met his words and Tyra flushed furiously, spinning on her heel and storming back in the direction of the lounge.

      “Eyes on that one!” commanded Mr. Blom. “She’ll be after our clothes next!”

      “Stop it,” snapped Kiyoshi before he could stop himself. “For the last time, it wasn’t anyone here.”

      “Then who was it?” Dalton asked curiously.

      “It was….“ Kiyoshi didn’t know why he even opened his mouth. He had nothing to finish the sentence with. He turned away, and, feeling the heated glares of the whole room bearing down on his back, gave in at last to his base instincts. He ran.

      “No! No, this is perfect! Let them go!” Mr. Blom’s voice shouted behind him as Kiyoshi skidded into the lavatory hallway.

      “Nobody else leaves this room! We’re safe wherever they’re not!”

     To be continued…