Six heads turned her way when she walked into the living room.
The front door had been open a crack, so Holly had let herself in. She’d patted her hair down as best as she could, being simultaneously grateful and regretful that there’d been no mirror in which to check her reflection. She wasn’t particularly vain, choosing to dress in clothes that suited her, rather than the latest fashions. She also never did anything fancy with her hair and makeup; but extreme weather conditions tended to transform her from Little-Miss-Normal into the swamp beast from the black lagoon. She hoped that the detectives would use their famed powers of deduction to deduce that she didn’t always look this terrible.
The smile jumped onto her face a couple of seconds too late when she realised they were all staring, waiting for her to say something. “Hi, I’m Holly,” she supplied, pleased that her voice sounded pretty level. “You must be the detectives. Although, there are only six of you…” She’d looked around and had picked up on the obvious.
“Ah, yes… Holly Winter - our lucky competition winner. I’m glad you made it through the bad weather.” A woman clutching a large and ornate organiser got to her feet and flashed Holly the brightest smile she’d seen in a long time. Pale-pink stained lips, a hint of blusher, and natural honey blonde hair - that seemed unfairly neat and tidy - completed the other woman’s perfect first impression.
“You’re not one of the detectives,” Holly said and then bit her tongue. She was letting her mouth run away with her!
Fortunately, the woman didn’t mind. She even laughed. The high, tinkling sound would have been more appropriate coming from a fairy.
“That’s right. I’m not! Much like you, I’m a fan of these legendary private detectives’ work. Every year, it’s my job to select a venue and organise this event. This year, it was a bit of a challenge,” she added, looking thoughtful for a moment. She shook her head, before sliding a pair of designer glasses up her nose and glancing down at her organiser. “I’m afraid that one of our number called me early this morning to let me know that he couldn’t make it, due to fears about the weather.” The woman looked sideways out of the window. “Regretfully, I may have hinted that he was being a little overcautious, but looking out there now… he had a point.” The smile faded for a second, before it was renewed with an even more luminous one. Holly wondered if she’d be willing to part with the number for her dentist. “Still! We’ll have a cosy time up here together, swapping exciting stories about what’s happened during the past year.”
Holly caught the two female detectives glancing at one another and flicking their gaze upwards. She got the message - this organiser was trivialising all of the work and risk they put into their jobs and their life. However, she also observed that the moment was over in a second. Some people were just sweet and fluffy by nature. These detectives bore their organiser no ill will. It was clearly just her way.
“Oh, how could I?!” the bubbly blonde exclaimed, looking so horrified Holly wondered what dreadful thing she’d done. “I haven’t introduced you to anyone! My name’s Miranda Louis. As I said when I was chattering away back then, I’m the event organiser. This gentleman is Jack Dewfall.” She pointed to the man seated to her left. He was in his early thirties and sported an army regulation hair cut. His physique, however, was not regulation. He’d developed a strange soft paunch that seemed premature in relation to his age. Being familiar with his cases, Holly was a little surprised by his personal appearance - but she suspected it was a classic reminder that appearances are often deceptive.
“Next to him is Lydia Burns.” One of the two other women present - a well-kept lady in her forties, with an enviable sheet of dark hair and perfectly applied red lipstick - inclined her head.
“You’ve probably heard about her cases,” Miranda carried on. Holly nodded in what she hoped was a non-committal manner. She knew them all, but after Miranda’s admission to also being a fan, and the almost-eye rolling that had passed between two of the detectives, she’d decided to keep that information close to her chest.
“And then we have Pete Black…”
“Adventurer, detective, and everyday hero at your service,” the man finished with a slanting grin and a wink at Holly. His flashy blonde hair was decisively parted in a style reminiscent of a bygone era.
The sound of a hastily-stifled cough came from the other side of the table. Pete narrowed his eyes and shot daggers in the direction of the remaining female detective. She pretended not to notice his gaze and made a big deal of examining her deep-green, manicured nails.
“And this is Emma White,” Miranda said with false brightness.
Holly could almost touch the building tension.
Emma smiled at Holly - the most genuine smile she’d seen so far. Holly couldn’t help but like the other woman, who was in her late twenties - close to Holly’s own age. She and Pete were the youngest detectives there, but they had both already achieved so much during their careers.
“Don’t worry, I’ll skip the entirely unnecessary introduction where I try to jump straight into your pants,” Emma said airily, studiously ignoring the fist-clenching and head-shaking that took place on the opposite side of the table.
Holly risked a little smile back, privately wondering what had happened to make relations so frigid between the pair. She supposed it was the obvious, given Emma’s larger than life dyed auburn hair, natural prettiness, and fast tongue. Team that with Pete’s good looks and arrogance, and you had a perfect recipe for disaster.
“Anyway, this is Lawrence Richards,” Miranda finished, visibly pleased to have completed all of the introductions without any physical fights breaking out.
The front door banged and juddered as it was thrown open, pushed by the howling wind. Heads turned again when a new visitor entered the room.
“Sorry I’m late. Can you believe this weather? I did not see it coming. I set out this morning in shorts and a t-shirt,” the new arrival said with an easy grin.
All around the table, the detectives muttered their derision at this inexcusable lack of foresight, as the man - who could only be Rob Frost - sauntered inside. Holly felt a rush of exhilaration when she realised - with an odd kind of relief - that he wasn’t the one who’d cancelled his invitation.
She was in the presence of the man who had solved every single unsolved robbery case he’d turned his hand to. Gold bullion, hidden for decades, had been dug up by him, and bounty worth millions was recovered and returned - no matter how smart the thieves had been. Rob was a personal favourite of Holly’s. She even privately thought that his off-the-wall cases and style of investigation could easily be turned into their own book or TV series.
“Wow, Tom… you look different. But hey, I’m not judging,” Rob said, grinning at Holly and raising his hands in mock defence.
Miranda cleared her throat and belatedly introduced Holly, who was already blushing under Rob’s scrutiny.
She did the only thing she could think of doing and scrutinised him right back.
Rob was in his mid-thirties, and would definitely have looked more at home on an assault course than the army specialist, Jack. He was probably a little over six-foot-three tall, with broad shoulders and an easy way of standing that let you know he was completely at ease with himself. His hair was dark and trimmed close at the sides with some longer growth on the top. The only thing that really made him stand out as a detective was his dark eyes that seemed to be taking in a hundred observations to every one that Holly made. She felt like she may as well be standing naked in front of him.
The blush rose in her cheeks again and she finally broke eye contact - just catching a glimpse of the small smile that danced on Rob’s lips, before he spun a chair around and plonked himself down on it.
“So, what’s been happening guys? I want the real stories this time, not all of that PR spin your agents sold to the papers. Lydia, did it really take you three whole months to figure out that it was poisoned lipstick that killed all those supermodels, or were you just playing dumb to claim more on your expenses? Come on, you can tell me.” He winked at the other detective.
Lydia sat back in her chair and made a huffing sound that let them all know this kind of taunting was beneath her.
Her superior silence didn’t last for long. “You’d understand the magnitude of the challenge if you saw just how much gear those girls use to get ready!” she protested.
Rob’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re telling me they were all on drugs as well? Surely that was the first thing you told them to avoid?” He shook his head in amused disapproval.
Lydia reached a hand up - as if to tear her own hair out - but then thought better of it.
Rob just grinned. “Only kidding, Lyds. I wouldn’t have cracked it that much faster than you. I reckon it would have taken me at least a week,” he said, his tone serious.
Across the table, Pete spluttered out a laugh. “I could have done it in days…” he claimed, making Emma snort.
“I doubt you’d have ever solved it. You’d be too busy chasing tail to catch the killer,” she sniped.
Holly noticed Miranda wincing. Confrontation was clearly something she hated.
“Let the games begin.” Rob grinned, spreading his hands wide.
“How about we kick off the story telling? That way, everyone can have their say,” Miranda suggested, like she was talking to a group of unruly school-children.
To Holly’s surprise, the tension immediately diffused and the detectives mumbled their agreement. Miranda’s overly sweet, patronising way of speaking to them, strangely had the desired effect on the highly-strung detectives.
“By the way… who drove into the hedge on the way in here? I thought all of you super-sleuths would have seen a little corner coming,” Rob said, laughing at his own joke.
Holly subtly covered her face with her hand.
Great.
So, this was what it was like spending time with people who noticed every single detail. She had a feeling this weekend was going to keep her on her toes.
If she’d known what was waiting just around the corner, she’d probably have wished herself at a convention for bankers instead of detectives.
Then again… even death may be more preferable than that.
“Okay, let’s do a little show-and-tell, shall we?” Miranda suggested, still in primary school teacher mode. After everything she’d heard during the last five minutes, Holly understood why. “Rob, you were the last in, so how about you go first?” Miranda asked, flashing the male detective a beautiful smile.
Holly’s heart sank to the floor. She frowned and ignored the unwelcome sensation.
Rob sat back and ruffled his hair, somehow contriving to make it look even more attractive. “Well, I don’t like to brag… but I’ve beaten you all again. I think it’s only right that everyone else goes first.” He grinned around the room.
Holly heard a couple of grumbles, from which she inferred that Rob made a similar claim every year.
Rob Frost just shook his head and raised his eyes heavenwards in mock exasperation. “Now, now, Jack… no need for jealousy. I know you work with the military to prove how tough you are, but some of us don’t have to compensate for anything… if you know what I mean.” Rob winked at Jack, who tried very hard to act as though he was above all of this.
Fortunately for everyone’s sanity, there was someone in the room who was struggling to stay silent.