Now Ellie was on the lookout for a troublemaker, she knew she would have to be careful. Instinct was one thing but proof was quite another, and if there really was someone messing things up she would need to be able to prove it; she couldn’t accuse anyone without proof. The first thing to do was to write everyone’s names down and see who she could eliminate. She got the notebook out of her bag and turned to the page where her father had written Trust your instincts.

Ellie stared at the phrase. Okay, but she also needed not to take anyone at face value. Proper detectives had to be capable of seeing what people were really like, not how they wanted you to see them.

Ellie took her best pen and thought for a moment. Then she wrote a list of the people she knew who worked for Heart.

Angel, Francesca, Piano, Carlotta, Flynn, Sophie, Joe, Uncle Patrick. Of course, lots of other people worked for the magazine in different departments, but she only knew people in editorial, the post room and Flynn who – as one of the IT people – worked in all the departments. She made a note to ask Sophie if anything was going wrong in other offices. She or Flynn would know. Then Ellie remembered that even they were suspects and asking that sort of question might alert them. It wasn’t proving very easy, being a detective.

After staring at the list and not having the proof to clear anyone of at least a tiny bit of suspicion, she decided to bide her time and not let her imagination run away with her. Two things going wrong, however annoying, didn’t necessarily make a conspiracy against the magazine. She only had another four days left working there, and her concern would almost certainly come to nothing. Besides, she couldn’t think why anyone would make trouble. She wasn’t living in a detective story. Things didn’t happen like that in real life.

In the morning, Ellie arrived a bit late. Heavy traffic had held her bus up, so it wasn’t her fault, but she fully expected someone to tell her off. However, that was the last thing on anyone’s mind. Piano and Francesca were crouched in front of the water cooler, and Ellie could see a large patch of wet carpet. What on earth had happened?

“Ellie!” called Francesca, as soon as she noticed her. “Run and fetch more paper towels from the loo. Hurry!”

She took the towels Ellie brought and used them to soak up a little more water. “Here,” she said, standing up and straightening her skirt. “You and Piano carry on. Angel will be here in a minute and I need to get ready. Just do what you can.”

“What happened?” asked Ellie, wadding up the towels as best she could, though the paper quickly became soggy and useless.

“Some idiot jammed a load of cups in the cooler so all the water leaked out,” said Piano. “You, no doubt.”

“Of course I didn’t!” protested Ellie.

“Well, since you’ve been here, all sorts of things have gone wrong,” said Piano, getting up. “And as far as I can see, that makes it your fault.” She stormed off to her desk, and Ellie watched her go.

How dare Piano blame me, Ellie thought furiously. Then a chill ran through her body. Most of the things that had gone wrong could be blamed on a useless person, rather than a vindictive one. If Piano chose to blame her, might the others do the same? Ellie couldn’t prove that she hadn’t jammed cups under the water cooler, and from Piano’s remarks it was obvious that soon everyone would be looking for someone to blame for all their recent misfortune. If Ellie didn’t want to be made into a scapegoat she needed to find out who really was to blame…and quickly.

And then things got a whole lot worse. A scream of anguish came from the direction of Piano’s desk and Francesca, Carlotta and Ellie all stared. Piano had her hands up to her mouth and was staring at the computer screen. “My article! It’s all gone Wingdings!”

Francesca got up and went over to Piano. “Whatever do you mean?”

Piano didn’t reply. She just pointed one trembling finger at the screen.

Francesca looked. For a moment she paled, then she looked cross. “For goodness’ sake, Piano. You’ve pressed a wrong button or something. Change it back to your usual font.” Francesca went back to her desk and picked up a few sheets of paper. “Ellie, take these into Angel’s office and put them on her desk, please. And make sure the cushions on her sofa are properly plumped up. She hates it when they look untidy.” She looked thoughtfully at the still-sodden carpet. “I’ll put a chair in front of the cooler until the carpet dries out, so no one stands on it.”

As Ellie took the papers, Francesca gave her a piercing look. Ellie tried to look as innocent as she felt. Who on earth would have flooded the carpet? And how could she prove that it hadn’t been her?

In Angel’s office, Ellie was just about to put the papers on the Editor’s desk when she noticed a few specks of black dust. Ellie brushed the specks away with her hand. To her horror, instead of disappearing, the specks smeared over the blonde wood of the desk, leaving nasty, black marks. Hastily, Ellie reached into her pocket for a tissue and tried to wipe the desk. But there were more of the tiny black specks everywhere, and the more Ellie rubbed, the worse they got. Ellie tried not to panic, but it wasn’t easy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in Angel’s office, smearing black marks over her pristine desk!

Then she remembered the cushions. Francesca had reminded her to plump them up. She went over to the sofa, but realized that her hands were covered in black marks. There was no way she could touch the powder blue cushions with hands like that! And with her heart in her mouth she noticed something else. On the white leather of the sofa were more black specks and there were more still on the white carpet. Surely this wasn’t meant as a joke? As Ellie heard Angel approaching she looked at her blackened hands and was sure that she was going to be accused, tried and judged without any means to defend herself.