The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

SOLUTIONS To The Answers Of Each Case>>>
04:41 May 29 2013
Times Read: 548

#1 The Case of the Archaeological Dig



Max realized that Bob had been taken in by the local native because there couldn't be any coins dated B.C. How would anyone have known it was B.C?





#2 The Case of the Murdered Wife



Palumbo knew that the sheriff had only told Mr. Layne to come home, and not what had happened. When Mr. Layne saw the gun, he said that she had been clubbed to death. A normal reaction would have been to assume that she had been shot with a gun, not clubbed.





#3 The Case of the Knife Wielding Gangster



Hobbs knew the men were lying because the bullet entered the dead man's ear. That couldn't have happened if he had been charging Joe head-on.





#4 The Case of the Late Night Suicide



Hobbs knew that Porter was lying because Porter said he saw Sam kick the small stool. If he had been looking from the driveway up to the attic, he would never have been able to see a small stool on the floor. The house was 3 stories high!!!





#5 The Case of the Gold Digger



Palumbo had no doubt that the whole story was fabricated. Patmos said he had a barber shave off 7 months of whiskers, yet his face and chin were tanned. If he hadn't shaved for seven months, his face would be white where the whiskers were not tanned!!





#6 The Case of the Untimely Blackmailer



Hobbs and Dough both know there is no June 31!!

#1 The Case of the Archaeological Dig:
04:34 May 29 2013
Times Read: 550

Read and Solve Each Case>>>



#1"I've finally earned my place as assistant curator of the museum", said Bob Hobbie to Max, the chief administrator of the Belgra Archeological Museum. "I moved West of the Pakistani dig site and we've just unearthed some wonderful coin artifacts."



"Why did you start digging in a new location?" asked Max.



"One of the local natives told me that, for many generations, his family had passed down a legend of a lost village and he found a map among his father's things," said Bob. "His father recently passed away", he added. "The native followed the map and led me to this site on the condition that if we discovered anything of value he would be paid one thousand dollars", explained Bob.



"And what is it that you found buried,?" asked Max.



"It's just terrific," exclaimed Bob, "we found 3 gold coins of various sizes dated 400 B.C., and after properly dusting them off I found them to be in excellent condition." "I quickly paid the native to complete our verbal contract and keep him from trying to claim a portion of the discovery," concluded Bob. After considering for a few moments, Max told Bob that when he returns home he should look for another job!! Why?





#2 The Case of the Murdered Wife



Detective Palumbo had just finished examining the body of Debbie Layne which was lying on couch in her plush living room.



"Mrs. Layne was hit on the back of her head 3 or 4 times with the butt of that pistol," the sleuth said.



The .45 lay on the floor near the body. Sheriff Hobbs was dusting the weapon for fingerprints.



"I've telephoned her husband at his office and only told him to come home, I dislike breaking bad news. Will you do it?", the sheriff said.



"I'll do it," said Palumbo as he watched the body being removed from the scene. Then he took a seat in a lounge chair to wait for Mr. Layne.



The Ambulance drove away just as Mr. Layne arrived. He came into the living room and asked, "Where's Debbie? What's happened?"



"I'm sorry to have to tell you that she was murdered about 3 hours ago," said Palumbo. "Your cleaning lady found the body and called the sheriff."



"I can't find any fingerprints on this gun," said the sheriff. "I'll send it to the lab."



Mr. Layne's face flushed as he got angry and said, "please find the fiend that clubbed Debbie to death, I'll put up a twenty-five thousand dollar reward!"



"Save your money," said Hobbs. "The murderer won't be that hard to find." Why?





#3 The Case of the Knife Wielding Gangster



Detective Hobbs found the notorious gangster Scarface Joe found lying face down on the bar room floor. A bullet had entered his left ear and must have lodged somewhere in his brain as there was no exit wound.



The bullet matched the gun that was owned by Bernie the Bull, another hoodlum, and Joe's rival gang member. It was well known that they hated each other but frequented the same bar.



Bernie said that he was the only customer in the bar when Joe came in and started yelling at him. "He was like a madman," said Bernie. "He pulled out a knife and started coming at me. I shot him in self-defense as he charged head-on at me swinging that knife." Joe's body lying close by still had the knife clutched in his left hand. "He just wouldn't stop coming at me," exclaimed Bernie. "I had to shoot, I had no choice."



The only witness was the bartender, another shady character, who agreed with Bernie's story.



Detective Hobbs just smiled and said, "you boys will have time to think of something better than that story on the way to the slammer." Why didn't he believe them?





#4 The Case of the Late Night Suicide



Detective Hobbs was on his way to the big Detroit auto show when he decided to visit his old friend, Dr. Sam. At Sam's home he was shocked to learn that just two days earlier his long time friend had hanged himself.



"Sam was in excellent health and spirits when I heard from him last week," Hobbs told the sheriff. "I can't believe he committed suicide."



"But he did---I investigated it myself," said the sheriff. "Here's how it all happened."



"Pete Porter, Sam's manservant, was returning to the house late that night when he spotted a light in the attic. As Porter got out of his car, he saw through the open attic window Sam knotting a rope around his neck. The other end was tied to a rafter. Then he saw Sam calmly kick away the small stool he was standing on, and that was the end.



"Porter found the house locked. He had forgotten his key; so he went to the neighbor to call me."

"He repeated to me exactly what I've just told you," said the sheriff.



"When I arrived at Sam's house, I had to force the front door open." Porter and I then ran up the three floors to the attic. Sam was dead. The coroner has no doubt that death was from hanging."



"The attic floor was clear except for the little stool that lay overturned by the door," concluded the sheriff.



"Let's go out to the house," said Hobbs. "From everything you've told me about Porter's story, I can tell you he's lying!" How did Hobbs know that Porter was lying?





#5 The Case of the Gold Digger



Detective Palumbo had just ordered a drink at the bar in the Tahoe motel when a young man with sun-bleached golden hair and tanned cheeks sat on the stool beside him.



After ordering a scotch and water, the sunburned man nodded toward the gaming tables. "My name is John Patmos," he said genially. "It's great to be back in civilization and hear people and money talking out loud."



Palumbo introduced himself. "I guess you've been out in the desert?"



"Yeah, I got back yesterday," said Patmos. "Washed the dust out of my ears, had a barber shave off my seven months of whiskers and trim my hair. Then I bought a whole wardrobe on credit. All I had to do was show my assay report. Boy am I going to celebrate."



"You found gold?," inquired Palumbo.



"Yes sir. Hit the big load." Patmos stroked his bronzed chin thoughtfully; then in a low voice he said, "if I can find a backer, I'll take enough out of those hills to buy ten pleasure palaces like this one. Of course, I'm not trying to interest you. But, if you know someone who'd like to get in on a sure thing, let me know. I'm staying in room 510. Can't give out the details here, you understand."



"I understand," said Palumbo, "that you'd better improve your story if you want to sucker someone into a deal that's worthless." How did Palumbo know the story was fictitious?





#6 The Case of the Untimely Blackmailer



"I'm telling you, Hobbs," said John Dough, "inheriting the Dough millions has had some nerve racking moments. Do you remember Frack, the butler?"



"A smiling and mild mannered chap," said Hobbs



"That's the guy. I fired him after inheriting the house in the Hamptons. Well, two days ago he came to my office and demanded one hundred thousand dollars. He claimed to have been in the study when my father drew up another will, naming his brother sole heir."



"You believed him?"



"I confess the news was quite a shocker. Dad and I had an argument over Marilyn sometime during the last week of June. Dad opposed the marriage, and it seemed possible that he had cut me off."



"Frack said he has this second will, which he said would be worth a lot more than the blackmail money he was asking for. He said the new will was dated June 31, only one day newer than the old will, but it would be legally recognized he claimed."



"You didn't pay him, I hope?" asked Hobbs.



"I paid---with my boot to the seat of his pants."



"Perfect," agreed Hobbs. "Imagine trying to peddle a story like that!? Why did they decide not to pay Frack?

The last snowfall: the answer..
04:24 May 29 2013
Times Read: 551

In an original short story by Nicholas Blincoe, the body of a woman is found - and then lost - in the snow in an isolated Alaskan community. Following is the solution to the wintry whodunnit:



Hildie's illegitimate daughter came to persuade Hildie to sell her property to the oil company. Whether out of fear or malice, Hildie gave her daughter methanol rather than moonshine, which destroys the optic nerve. Blinded, the woman stumbled into the snow and, at the centre of the drilling site, covered herself with her ski jacket before dying of hypothermia. Hildie's dog took the jacket from the dying woman and dragged it to Hildie, who was waiting at the fence. With no snow on her body, it appeared the woman had fallen from the trees. This is what Frank Tanner thought when he disposed of her body, spoiling Hildie's plan to embarrass the oil company and cover up her murder.

The last snowfall...
04:20 May 29 2013
Times Read: 552

Whodunnit>>



In this original short story by Nicholas Blincoe, the body of a woman is found - and then lost - in the snow in an isolated Alaskan community. Can you solve our wintry whodunnit? A link to the answer is at the end of the article.



The curious incident of the body in the nighttime...



Every fortnight when I make my mail flight up to Ambler Bay, I look forward to visiting old Hildie. All the folks up at Ambler are fine by me, but when I deliver Hildie's mail, I'm not just doing my job - I'm exercising a genuine pleasure. Hildie keeps a moonshine still, way back in the pine trees of her 50-acre spread. This trip, though, Hildie was so overwrought she forgot her manners and pounced on the mail packet without offering me a drink. She found the envelope from the photo lab in Anchorage and ripped it open, saying, "Now those guys'll have to believe me."

A glance at the photograph showed Hildie was telling the truth two weeks ago when she handed me the film. As she had predicted, the picture showed a body lying in the snow, beyond the chain-link fence that the oil company had erected around its drilling site. Hildie was right about something else, too. This was a genuine mystery. The woman was lying between two great pines in the middle of an expanse of fresh snow. There were no tracks leading to her body, save the pockmarks of a prowling dog and the holes made by snow fallen from the branches above. There was no snow on the woman, not even a dusting, so the only way she could have got there was if she had fallen from the sky.

Yet this wasn't as far-fetched as it might sound. The arrival of the oil company had also brought eco-warriors up from Seattle. The activists were intent on scaling the trees around the drilling site and this woman was likely one of them, a protester who had fallen from her perch. If that cleared up half the mystery, it didn't explain the rest of Hildie's story.

Hildie is in her 70s and none too lissom. Rather than scrape through a gap in the chain-link fence to get to the body, she went home to radio for help. Unfortunately, she was out of methanol and her generator was dry, so the radio wouldn't work. I told her she should have filled the generator with moonshine, and she said she wished she had thought of that - the woman might still be alive. Instead, she locked up her dog, Betsy, and drove to the sheriff's office in Ambler, taking the photo on the way. By the time the sheriff and Hildie returned to the site, the body was gone and a fresh fall of snow left no traces as to how she might have disappeared. With no body, there was no mystery. As the sheriff said at the time, who knew but the woman hadn't simply got up and wandered away? Now I had seen Hildie's photographs, I knew this was impossible. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, the woman would have died of hypothermia in half an hour.

Hildie asked, "Do you recognise her?"

I couldn't say I did, but these eco-warriors prefer to travel by sea rather than take my mail flight up from Anchorage. The boys who came with me were Hildie's sworn enemies: oilmen. On this trip, I had flown out 10 big guys; no doubt hired to cut the eco-warriors out of the trees and maybe throw a scare into them. I apologised to Hildie for this, but she knows I don't get to pick and choose my passengers.

Hildie had lived the simple life in Ambler for more than 40 years and she had no intention of selling up. She was even doing her bit for the protesters, allowing them to set up a base camp on her land. When I saw their camp on my last trip, I thought, that makes sense of the letters Hildie had been receiving from Seattle over the past year. She and the eco-warriors may have been in cahoots but Hildie was in a minority of one around Ambler. Everyone else would have welcomed an offer from the oil company - but only Hildie owned land in the right vicinity.

After I left Hildie, I recognised one of the protesters, a youngster named Ben Abbott. I still felt guilty for flying up the oil company toughs, so I said hello and warned him the compound fence had been strengthened. It wouldn't be so easy for him to break in and scale the trees. In Hildie's photograph, the fence had been in poor shape, with holes cut out and a few strands of colourful nylon thread snagged on the wire where a protester must have snuck through. Ben thanked me for the information but told me that he and his partner planned to make rope walkways so they could flit from tree to tree. I wished him good luck, and worried that we might see another body on the ground before springtime.

As we were talking, Betsy bounded up and jumped all over Ben. He had clearly made a firm friend. Ben laughed, telling me that he had no idea what kind of reception he would get up in Ambler, but Betsy had made the trip worthwhile. As Hildie always said, Betsy was the smartest dog in the world.

Once the sheriff saw Hildie's picture, he wasted no time calling in Frank Tanner, the watchman for the oil company. It wasn't the sheriff's style to move fast, but what I didn't know until I inveigled my way into his office was that he already had a body. The dead woman had been found in a ravine on the far side of Ambler, about 30 miles from the drilling site, which was no distance in such a spread-out community. There was no doubt that this was the woman in Hildie's photograph: she was wearing the same dark jeans and sweats. The sheriff showed Tanner the picture and told him, "This has to be embarrassing, Frank - a dead woman on your shift." Tanner claimed he didn't know a thing but the sheriff threw a curve-ball and said he'd found Frank's tyre tracks around the ravine. There had been more than two feet of snow since the photo was taken, but Tanner was none too bright, and soon admitted to dumping the body. But he swore blind he had not killed her. Like the sheriff said, he was just saving himself and the oil company the grief of a dead eco-warrior on the site. Later, I asked the sheriff if he believed Tanner's story. The sheriff shrugged, but said once he got the forensic report, he would call the witnesses together and figure out the story.

Things move slowly in Ambler. I flew the woman's body down to Anchorage for the autopsy and I was back by the time the sheriff got the results. Tanner was still in the sheriff's cell but the forensic report went some way to supporting his story: the woman had died of hypothermia, not trauma. She was about 40 years old and part Yupik, the native tribe in those parts. The Yupik claimed no one from their tribe was missing. I figured, if none of them knew the dead woman, maybe she was the illegitimate daughter of one of the old boys. The sheriff thought that sounded right.

The sheriff had four possible witnesses. Frank Tanner, of course. Ben Abbott and the other eco-warrior, his girlfriend, Flossie Jones. And finally, old Hildie. I was there, too, and I had to admire the professional set-up. The sheriff had wired up a projector so that we all sat in the half-light, looking at Hildie's photograph blown up on the office wall. Now I saw the photograph so big, I wondered about the faint swirling pattern in the snow, leading away from the woman's body. Hildie was more excited by the tail end of a rope, visible in one of the trees. Flossie and Ben had claimed they had made a start scaling a tree before the weather drove them back to camp. When Hildie said she had seen Frank Tanner cutting down the ropes the next day, he had called her a liar. The photograph clearly showed that Tanner was the liar.

Ben asked the sheriff if the woman showed signs of having fallen from a height. The sheriff said there was nothing conclusive: she had cuts and bruises but no broken bones. Hildie pointed out that the snow was deep enough to have cushioned a fall. Flossie wondered if the dead woman could have got her injuries falling through the brambles into the ravine where she had been found. The sheriff asked how she knew about the brambles, but the girl refused to be trapped: she'd gone along to look at the crime scene after the news came out. The sheriff seemed to accept this. At any rate, he told us that the postmortem proved the woman was alive when she got her cuts and grazes and dead before she entered the ravine.

What else could he tell us? The dead woman had sailed up from Seattle on a fishing boat. Ben and Flossie were adamant they had never seen her before, but the sheriff said she fitted the eco-warrior profile: she had arrests for drink, drugs and vagrancy. This time, he got a reaction ... from Hildie. She told the sheriff he ought to be ashamed of himself, casting aspersions on two good kids. Hildie so identified with the eco-warriors, she had taken to dressing like them, though her jacket was a lurid, tatty ski jacket rather than the mountaineering jackets the kids could afford. Once the sheriff had calmed everyone down, he admitted that the crew of the fishing boat reported that the dead woman sounded more like a prospector than a protester: prowling the deck in all weathers, wrapped in an old pink anorak as she bragged about a fortune waiting for her in Ambler. The crewmen wrote her off as a fantasist, a damaged woman who was getting on in life and getting desperate.

I said, "However she died, she must have been drunk, stumbling around in the snow or falling out of trees."

"I don't know if she was drunk," the sheriff replied. "I can tell you she was blind. And that's the problem. I think we've got a murder inquiry on our hands."

I nodded sadly. "I think so too, sheriff."

"Till Theft Do Us Part" by Hy Conrad:
04:12 May 29 2013
Times Read: 554

Tanya's rich boyfriend finally proposes. That night she is caught taking a ring from his safe. Why?



Get a clue>>

1. Tanya was about to leave forever when Lance proposed.

2. The ring was his mother's wedding ring.

3. Before the wedding, the ring was going to be cleaned and reinsured.

4. Tanya was caught with a real ring and a paste copy.



Solution>>

Before leaving Lance, Tanya stole the real ring and replaced it with a copy. But Lance's proposal changed everything. Tanya was caught trying to replace the real ring in his safe.

"Crime Doesn't Pay" by Lynette Kiely:...
04:07 May 29 2013
Times Read: 555

Whodonnit Mystery:



CRIME DOESN'T PAY.



All Alan's life, that line had repeatedly been drummed into him. But with both his mother and his father in the police force, Alan had quickly learnt that crime fighting also rarely pays. At fifteen his parents had separated. They had virtually lived apart anyway, as one was usually solving a case while the other was in hospital recuperating from some new wound. Still, Alan had become a cop himself and that was where he had met his partner 'Bo' Bodine. Bo possessed a quick smile, a quick wit, and a family as intertwined with the force as his.

The two had been working together for eight years and had a reputation for always finding their man, so it was natural for them to arrive at work one day to find The Big One they'd worked so hard to get had at last made its way onto their desk. $2,365,000 had been stolen from the Western Bank. Working at peak efficiency, they'd quickly found the thief and had handled him in their usual professional way. After a glorious game of "good cop/bad cop" they had a confession and a map and now it was a matter of locating the money. Bo had quickly ascertained that the 'X' represented an old abandoned warehouse and an hour and a half later they had managed to rip down the fake wall. It was empty.

Together they checked the map again to make sure they had the right warehouse.

"Okay, Alan my friend. It's time to think like a criminal."

Alan complied and ran the scenario through his mind. If I were this man, he thought, and I knew the famous Bodine and Carson were on my tail, where would I stash the loot?

False floor under the fire place? Too obvious. Hidden passageway behind a wall? Only one of four walls was adjoining another room and they had just demolished that. Slowly Alan turned around and surveyed the empty room. Finally his eyes rested on the air vent. He glanced at Bo, only to find him staring at the same thing. Silently they walked towards the opening and Alan gave his partner a leg up. Soon Bo had the grid pried loose and on the ground. He hoisted himself up further before giving a muffled cheer.

Three hours later the two men toasted each other on their find. Today they were famous for nabbing this criminal. This time tomorrow, they would be truly legendary. And free. Bo took another long drink of champagne and settled back in his seat with a sigh.

"Didn't I tell you, Alan? All those years of cracking the smaller cases and we finally made it big."

"Yep. The sky's the limit now--now that the money is safely deposited in our Swiss account and we're on our way to be with it." Alan smiled and thought about his crime-fighting family. They should have taken a page out of Bo's mob-related family. If you worked hard enough, crime definitely did pay.

Mystery Stories
01:08 May 29 2013
Times Read: 559

We live in very technologically advanced times, so what if, one day, you found someone else's phone in your house and you didn't have any visitors for a while...what would you do...would it be a simple case of figuring it out or what? So here's my story...



Unknown Caller:



Ah-achoo! Always the dust up my nose on the monthly Monday housecleaning. If you cared to look in the lounge window as you passed our city-slick dwelling, parked in a close-knit community of upmarket overpriced semi-detached houses, you would see me bent over in a paroxysm of dust mite explosions.



This particular Monday, my sneezing began as I put hand to our velvet-clad couch and thrashed the dust into life. Tears acted like magnifiers as my eyes caught a square of silver peeping through the large soft black cushions. Surprised, I extracted the shiny object. A cell phone! I turned it over and tried a few buttons to access the contacts. I almost dropped it as a loud fanfare of orchestral music from Vivaldi’s ‘Spring’ signalled a call.



‘Unknown’ showed on the screen. Not daring to answer, I placed the phone on the coffee table, where it vibrated in a dance of unanswered rage. I felt guilty for some unknown reason. Whose phone was it?



I lived alone, now that my youngest daughter had moved nearer her college several months before. I had no visitors I could recall for the last few months. People I knew seemed busy and distracted and declined invitations to visit our house. Was it one of my daughter’s many ‘lost’ phones? I searched through ‘contacts’ again. None seemed familiar. I dialled a number at random.



“Hello,” I said hesitatingly. What could I say to persuade the person I wasn’t some idiot fooling about? A female voice answered and declined to know anything about how her number was included in the phone list. She cut me off abruptly. I tried several more to no avail. Puzzled, I saw that the battery was running low and searched in my box of collected phone items for a suitable battery recharger. This collection was due to the continuous stream of missing phones on my daughter’s part. I was in luck and thanked the standardization of modern technology and the need to keep the items in a closed box.



I sent my daughter and son a text, asking if they knew the phone’s owner. My son’s text came back, immediately curious about the phone, but with no information about its owner. There was no text from my daughter, who was usually the world’s promptest text writer. I sent her another text, to no avail. She was obviously busy. I wondered if I would keep the phone as part of my collected phone items. It was password protected, so I could never turn it off and on again. A bit of a waste and so much for finders keepers!



Monday dusting now forgotten, I decided to make some coffee, this being my day-off from the busy downtown private detective agency I ran with a long-time partner. I was half tempted to disturb his busy day with a request for a code to unlock the password, but I decided to leave it. He might drag me into some work.



Searching once again through the phone contacts for some clue, I gasped when I saw my own number on the screen. What was it doing there? A sudden soft noise behind me drew my attention back into the room. I turned around and faced down the cold muzzle of my own black double action revolver. At the other end of the gun, I looked into a pair of dark eyes staring out from a black hooded face.



“Don’t move lady or you’ll get it here and here,” a man’s low voice growled at me.



“What do you want?” I managed to say without stuttering.



“Gimme that phone,” he growled. Snatching it from my outstretched hand, he dropped it into an open sports bag at his feet. My eyes widened, as I saw the open bag’s contents. “That’s my jewellery,” I muttered at him.



“That’s right lady and now it’s mine. Turn around,” he commanded.



Strong hands gripped my wrists and with a push I fell off balance, face down on the floor, where he bound my hands and feet together. No counter- attack here!



“Stay quiet lady or you’ll get it.” His soft footsteps moved to the lounge door.



“Why is my name on your phone? And how did your phone get in my couch?”



My questions fell on deaf ears. The front door slammed shut. With plenty of time to think things through, one question persisted. Who was the unknown caller?

A murder mystery reaches the boiling point at Greystone Psychiatric Hospital. The killer can take down another victim any minute. Are you ready for a murder mystery that only you can solve?
05:37 May 28 2013
Times Read: 574

Greystone is a murder mystery like no other. That because unlike conventional crime fiction, you become the detective in this interactive murder mystery, You're on the job as you try and beat the clock and solve the murder case. Who are the suspects and what are their motives? Where's the evidence? You're the detective on this case and only you can decide. Move quickly, though. The killer is at large and may choose you to be the next victim!



Enter a Fictional Nightmare of Murder and Mystery!



Patients and staff are being systematically slaughtered at Greystone. After three murders in just two weeks leave local police stumped, they turn to the New Jersey State Police for help. You, a detective with the state police, enter Greystone undercover as a patient. Since everyone in Greystone is a suspect nobody on Greystone's staff knows your true identity. As far as everyone is concerned, you're just another patient with problems.



Exploring Greystone will be challenging as there are acres of land to be explored. You have to make your way through underground tunnel systems and a dozen or so buildings, both active and abandoned, and even the surrounding neighborhood in search of clues, evidence and witnesses as you pursue the killer.



Interacting with several key characters in the story you'll have to tap into the deepest recesses of your detective skills to pose the right questions to the right people and know when to tip your hand with crucial evidence you'll uncover. When you make your move and and make an arrest you're on the hook and must be 125% positive your case is strong enough to get your suspect convicted. If not, the perp might walk and kill again.



Parts of Greystone may appear haunting; you'll be prowling the halls and corridors of abandoned areas closed for decades as you unravel the mystery of Greystone. What's going to send shivers down your spine is the possibility you might unwittingly blow your cover making the killer wise to you. Don't be too surprised if you find out he's stalking you as you grapple with the evidence you need to bring him to justice.



Every folio edition of Greystone comes with autopsy reports, a two page letter from the story's Superintendent of the State Police giving you the case's background along with a mandate to stop the killer. And there's more than that in every box.



Once you embark on your investigation you must sift through a myriad of clues and motives in order to track down the killer. That's no small task since there are more than a dozen different characters in the story, many with something to hide. Don't underestimate Greystone; what you might think is damning evidence may only be a red herring. On the other hand, what may appear to be perfectly harmless may turn out to be the perfect weapon.



Several characters in this mystery are crucial to solving the case; patients, staff and other people all need to be questioned and probed to provide valuable insight to solving the murder case. Some of them will touch your heart, others will infuriate you and a few will make you smile. One or two will hit a nerve and may even scare you to death. The fictional characters in the stories act, think and feel like real people. They'll talk about their feelings, their families, their past and their hopes for the future. Precious few works of fiction have captured the human element so completely as Greystone.



As you take in the landscape, conduct your questioning and build your case, the clock is ticking all the while. Make sure time doesn't run out or it might be the end of the line for you.



Because Greystone is an interactive murder mystery, you're not just the reader; you're the main character -- the detective. Forced to engage in guile, you'll be sneaking around the grounds to preserve your cover as you gain access to ancient buildings long abandoned. The haunting atmosphere is always at your back as you scour every room following the scant trail of bread crumbs that will lead you right to the killer.



As soon as you arrive and start poking around, you'll be stunned to learn the killer struck yet again! He's moving faster than you are and it's time for you to play catch-up or you're off the case or, even worse, dead in a ditch.



At a group therapy session the room will explode with violence as the other patients express their fears and concerns and one of them reveals himself to be a vigilante. Is he an ally or a suspect? You'll be on the edge of your seat as you try and figure it out.



You'll be rifling through old filing cabinets and stumble on patient records that may take you right to the killer...or straight to a dead end.



A trip to the green house and the well-kept fields around it will lead you to more than one surprising discovery; how will you act on your findings?



Somebody at Greystone has been on the take for a long time and you'll unearth a pile of their cash. What will you do with all that money? And what can you do to to the doctor on the take?



Your powers of observation will be stretched to their limits as you roam the grounds posing as a mental patient and listen and learn as much as you can from your surroundings. When it's time to move in and make the pinch, will you be ready?



Every bit of evidence you collect can be sent to the lab for analysis. Your partner on the grounds, State Trooper Tarkus, is at your command and will get the lab work done for you. Some of the lab reports will be pivotal to your case so pay attention!



Speaking of Officer Tarkus, he's a powerful man you'll be glad is on your side. He's there to back you up and it's a good thing he is. When it's time to make the arrest he'll be right next to you to break down doors, slam the suspect up against a car or possibly shove his loaded 9mm in their face as he begs them to resist arrest.

Title: Self defense Case...By Author: Tracie Rae Griffith
03:47 May 28 2013
Times Read: 580

Tag line: Willy Armbruster had dodged a bullet. Dale Garrison hadn’t been so lucky.



Police characters: Detective Kay and Sgt. Morgan



The gist: Willy called in to say he had just shot Dale in self-defense. Dale was the president of the company, while Willy was VP of operations. He claimed he had been suspicious of missing money and had told Dale an audit was necessary. According to Willy, Dale called him into the office from home after hours. Feeling funny about the late meeting, Willie brought his handgun. He claimed that even before he got to sit Dale pulled out a gun from his desk drawer and shot at him putting a hole in the wall behind Willy. (There was indeed a bullet hole in the wall opposite the desk.) Willy then shot Dale dead. When the police arrived Dale was slumped over his desk with a handgun in his right hand. When asked where Dale had kept the gun, Willie told police he kept it in his right-hand desk drawer. Det. Kay opened the right hand drawer and noted it was large enough to have held a gun. When asked what Willie thought Dale might have told the police if his shot had not missed him, Willie claimed there had been burglaries in the area lately, which was why Dale had the gun to begin with.



Crime scene: Dale’s office.



Clues: Bullet hole in back wall. Gun kept in desk drawer.



Suspects: Only Willie. It was Det. Kay’s job to determine if it was murder or self defense.



Red herrings: None. Sort of.



Solution: Det. Kay realized she had to open the desk drawer to look inside. If Dale had pulled a gun and shots were exchanged, the drawer would still be open. Willie had been embezzling and had killed the boss to keep him from reporting the crime. He then put the gun in Dale’s right hand, but out of habit shut the drawer.



My two cents: Another solid story from Author Griffith. Again, we knew from the get-go who did it, it was just a matter of whether it was self-defense or not. I expected the solution to include the same old tired left hand/right-hand explanation and was pleasantly surprised to hear the open/shut drawer clue. I have to say because I was sure Dale was left handed, I didn’t even see it coming.

Can you solve the case of The Ruined Roses?
03:37 May 28 2013
Times Read: 581

Whom does Max suspect?



Mike Brooks



Sam Cartland



Alex Avery



Not sure

The Case of the Ruined Roses
03:36 May 28 2013
Times Read: 583

"That was a neat program on UFO's," said Nina to her cousin Max as they walked down the street. "I think what really amazed me was that UFO's were reported as early as 1800."

"That's pretty hard to believe," said Max. "Anyway, do you really believe there are such things?" Nina started to answer when they heard a loud scream coming from Coach Thornton's house.

"Come on," shouted Max. They ran into the yard where the coach was staring at ten rose bushes that had been pulled from the ground.

"Look at that!" he demanded. "Just look at that."

"That's terrible," cried Nina. "Who could have done it?"

Coach Thornton looked disgusted. "I had to bench three of my best football players for cutting class. They were pretty mad at me."

"First thing, we'd better get these roses back in the ground," said Max. "Then we'll figure out who did it."

Nina and Max helped Coach Thornton replant the roses. Then he invited them in for milk and cookies.

"Now," said Nina. "Am I right? You benched Sam Cartland, Mike Brooks, and Alex Avery."

"And you lost the game," added Max.

The coach rubbed his eyes. "I know, but rules are rules."

"I'll bet one of them did it to get even," said Nina. "How about we nose around a little?"

"Let's see," said Max after they left. "Coach said the roses were all right when he looked out at nine. But shortly after ten, he found them pulled up."

"So, we check to see who doesn't have an alibi between nine and ten. Look!" Nina pointed. "There's Alex Avery over at the Dairy Bar."

Alex looked up as they came in. "Hi kids," he drawled.

"Hello, yourself," said Max. "We missed seeing you in the football game."

"That was a bummer all right. But I guess the coach didn't have any choice."

"Where you been all morning?" asked Nina.

"I've been right here since nine." He turned to the girl behind the counter. "Isn't that right, Amy?"

"Uh huh. You helped me carry in that heavy box."

"So you weren't anywhere near Coach Thornton's house?" asked Max.

Alex looked surprised. "No, I'm not mad at him, but I don't intend to visit him."

After they left, Nina looked down the street. "That's Sam Cartland's house. Let's see what he's been doing."

"What do you two want," growled Sam when he came to the door.

"Hey, lighten up, Sam," said Max. "Can we talk with you?"

"Sure, come on in." He pressed a button on his remote control and turned off his VCR. "I've been watching some football tapes to improve my game."

"We wondered what you were doing between nine and ten this morning," said Nina.

"I was right here watching that program on UFO's."

"That was a good program," said Nina. Remember when that guy from Roswell, New Mexico insisted he had been abducted?"

"Yeah," laughed Sam. "The one with the bushy hair. Funny how this has been going on for so long. That pilot, Kenneth Arnold, started it back in 1947 with the stuff he saw."

"Very interesting," said Max, trying not to look bored. "But we have to get going."

"Maybe we can find Mike Brooks working out at the gym," said Nina as they left.

"Probably," agreed Max.

They found him on the treadmill. "Hey, you two want to join down here? It's a great place to work out."

"Not right now," said Max. "We were wondering about what you were doing from nine to ten this morning."

"Right here. You can check the log book. Why?"

"Just curious," said Nina with a smile as they went back to the desk. Sure enough, Mike had signed in at five of nine.

This is great," Nina groaned. "They all have alibis."

"I'm not so sure of that," said Max.

Can you solve the case Disappearing Dimes?
03:35 May 28 2013
Times Read: 584

Whom does Nina suspect?



Baxter



Harvey



Fiona



Not sure

The Case of the Disappearing Dimes
03:33 May 28 2013
Times Read: 585

Nina had expected her great-great uncle's house to be like mansions in the movies, with marble columns and rose gardens, not peeling paint and a weed- filled lawn. But Dad explained that Waldo hated spending money, except on his collections.

Nina's parents thought the kids were playing outside. Instead, they snuck into the candlelit parlor.

"Your Mom will freak out if she catches us," Nina's cousin Max muttered.

"I know. But Uncle Waldo traveled a lot and I never got to meet him while he was alive. I just want to see what he looks like."

"At least turn on some lights," Max grumbled. "This is creepy."

"Didn't you hear the lawyer talking to Mom and Dad? Uncle Waldo called the parlor his 'candle room.' He never had it wired for electricity." She crept over to the coffin and peered inside.

Waldo wore a tuxedo with a ruffled shirt and red cummerbund. His white hair was neatly combed, his nails manicured, and his diamond stickpin and silver cufflinks glittered in the candlelight.

"He looks nice," Nina whispered.

Max took one glance inside, then pulled Nina away from the coffin. "Weird," he said. "I didn't think people wore tuxedos when they were buried."

"He liked it. Dad said Uncle Waldo even had his portrait painted wearing this exact same outfit. He put it in his will that he wanted to be dressed for his funeral exactly the way he is in that portrait."

Max shivered. "I wonder who had to dress him?"

"Harvey, Waldo's assistant."

"Like a butler?"

"Sort of."

"So he really was rich. Hey, your Dad was kidding about inheriting twenty cents, right?"

Nina led her cousin back down the hall. "Well, Waldo did leave Dad two dimes. But Mercury is facing the wrong way or something, and that makes them worth a lot of money. Mom said it was enough to pay my way through college someday."

"Cool."

"Uncle Waldo's daughter, Fiona, inherited the house and all this stuff." They entered the study where Nina's parents were talking to the lawyer, Mr. Baxter. Max gawked at Waldo's "collections." Display cases everywhere were filled with jewel-encrusted objects.

Harvey, Waldo's assistant, handed glasses of lemonade to the kids, then left. Nina thought he looked as sour as the drink tasted.

"Fiona arrived earlier, but you probably won't see her until the funeral tomorrow," the lawyer was saying. "Waldo requested burial near his gazebo. Harvey will dig the grave himself."

"Poor Harvey," Dad murmured.

Baxter nodded. "At least Waldo set up a trust that will continue to pay Harvey's salary, small as it is. Now, would you like to see the dimes?"

In the master bedroom upstairs, the lawyer twirled the combination lock on a wall safe while Nina studied the painting of Waldo that hung above the fireplace. Decked out in his tux, ruffled shirt, jade cufflinks and diamond stickpin, he seemed to wink down at her.

Baxter removed a box from the safe and opened it.

Everyone gasped. The box was empty.

"Impossible!" the older man exclaimed. "They were here an hour ago."

"The safe isn't damaged," Mom remarked. "How many people know the combination?".

He frowned. "Just myself, Fiona and Harvey. I'd better call the police."

"Go ahead," Dad said. "But no matter who stole the dimes, they're small enough to be hidden anywhere. Even if the police tear the house apart, I'll bet they never find them." Nina stood up, staring at the portrait. "I think I know who took the dimes," she whispered to Max. "And if I'm right, I know where they are."

Can you solve the case Disappearing Signs?
03:31 May 28 2013
Times Read: 586

Whom does Nina suspect?



Paul



Mrs. Stearns



Freddie Swanson



Not sure

The Case of the Disappearing Signs....
03:29 May 28 2013
Times Read: 587

Nina was eating cold pizza for lunch at Max's house one hot July day. Mrs. Decker came in looking warm and weary.

"I'm so disgusted," she said. "Remember that old house over on Norton Drive that I listed? I put a FOR SALE sign up in the yard early this morning. Just drove by now and it's gone. This is the third one this month that has disappeared."

"Why would anyone steal a realtor's signs?" Nina asked. "What would anybody do with them?"

"Who knows?" Mrs. Decker poured herself a glass of lemonade. "Probably some kids with nothing better to do. I suppose they could use the signs to build something. They were the wooden ones."

Max nudged Nina. "Want to bike over and see what we can find out?"

"Not much there to see," his mother told him. "Only two houses on that whole street. An old lady-Mrs. Stearns-lives in the house next to the empty one."

"Maybe she saw something," Nina said. "Let's go ask."

Half an hour later the two were biking toward the end of Norton Drive. A pick-up truck was parked in front of the empty house. A man was standing on the sidewalk looking in all directions.

"You kids know anything about this place?" he asked. "I'm from out of town, and my nephew has been checking houses for me this past month. He thought I might like the one at the end of Norton Drive, so he let me borrow his truck to drive over here. But I don't know if this is the house he meant. There aren't any signs."

"This house is for sale," Max told him. "My mom is the real estate agent."

"Great! Then can you tell me her name and company? I'd like to ask about this property. Paul tells me that houses in this part of town sell fast. He says this one has been on the market for quite some time. Glad I got here before it was sold! Just couldn't get over here any sooner."

As soon as Max gave him the information, the man drove off. Nina stared after the truck. "Know what? His nephew, Paul, might have taken the signs. Maybe he didn't want people to see that the house was for sale until his uncle had a chance to look at it. You can put lots of things in the back of a truck."

Max nodded. "Let's ask this Mrs. Stearns if she saw anything this morning."

Mrs. Stearns came to the screen as soon as the two knocked. She was gray-haired, but she stood straight and tall. "Oh, I think I know who might have taken those signs," she told them. "Freddie Swanson. He lives a block away, but he's always up to mischief."

She held the door open as she talked, so Nina peeked inside. She liked the cozy living room. The sofa and chairs were velvet-covered antiques. Lace doilies covered the end tables. A large painting hung over the intricately- carved fireplace mantel, and a cheerful fire crackled below.

"I know Freddie," Max said. "And I know where he lives. Let's go see him."

Freddie was putting a lawn mower in the garage when they reached his house. He mopped his brow, as he talked to them. "Why would I take a dumb old sign?" he asked. "Besides, I've been out here doing yard work all morning." Nina stared past him at the garage. Her parents could hardly get their car in her garage at home because of all the stuff in it, but this one was practically bare. Then she noticed a crudely built tree house in the yard. The boards were gray and weather-beaten.

She and Max talked as they biked back to his house. Mrs. Decker was washing the lunch dishes when they banged into the house.

"We think we know who took the signs," Nina told her.

Can you solve the case of the Sneak Thief's Sneakers?
03:25 May 28 2013
Times Read: 588

Whom does Max suspect?



Todd



Ollie



Mona



Not sure

The Case of the Sneak Thief's Sneakers...
03:23 May 28 2013
Times Read: 589

It was Saturday afternoon and Max and Nina were playing space aliens in the woods. "Something's different," Max said as they took a break between battles. "I know. Mr. Reed's not practicing."

Mr. Reed was the school's music teacher. The woods lay right by his property and every Saturday, as they played, the young cousins were always serenaded by solo clarinet music coming from the shack behind Mr. Reed's house.

Nina climbed down from the tree house they were using as their star cruiser. "You're right. I hope nothing's wrong." The words were barely out of her mouth when they heard a distant shout. "That's him."

Max and Nina ran to the edge of the woods. In front of them was Mr. Reed's field. In the middle of the field was the shack. Mr. Reed was there, peering through the shack's open door.

"I've been robbed," he shouted for the fourth time. "Max. Nina. Hello." He was trying to control his anger. "I'd just unlocked the door when I noticed a split reed on my clarinet. I went back to my house to get a new one. I left the shack unlocked, just for a few minutes. And now look."

Max and Nina had never seen the inside before, but they'd heard about it. Mr. Reed's music shack had been burgled last year, everything in stolen. When the music teacher brought in new furniture, he bolted it all to the floor-- the table in the center, the single chair by the table, even the file cabinets.

At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. But then Nina saw the broken pieces of pink pottery on the table. "Someone broke open your piggy bank?"

Mr. Reed looked embarrassed. "It held my rare silver dollar collection." He crossed the room and stretched his tall frame up to the blank space on his only shelf. "I kept it right here."

"A crime of opportunity," Max said, as if he dealt with this every day. "The thief saw the unlocked door and was looking for something to steal. He or she grabbed the piggy bank, broke it open on the table--"

"Look," Nina interrupted. "Footprints. Those aren't yours, are they?"

"No," Mr. Reed replied, examining the path of prints on the dusty floor. "I haven't been in here since last Saturday. Being in the middle of a field, this place gets dusty pretty fast."

Very carefully, Max followed the prints, from the door over to the shelf, then back to the table. After that, a jumble of prints led all around the room. "I wonder what he was doing?"

Nina was on the other side of the shack by a pair of nailed down file cabinets. "These look like knee-prints," she said, pointing to a pair of round impressions between the cabinets. "Why would the thief kneel down?" She knelt down in the two knee prints. Right away, a glint of metal between the two cabinets caught her eye. Nina reached her arm through the narrow gap and pulled out a silver dollar. "The thief was trying to reach this," she said proudly and handed the rescued coin to Mr. Reed. "He was wearing 'SkyMaster' sneakers." Max stood up and wiped a little floor dust from his nose. "It's printed on the tread. Don't worry, Mr. Reed. We'll find your thief."

Max and Nina got on the case immediately. This was a lot more fun than fighting space aliens.

Their first stop was Garvey's, the only shoe store in town. Mr. Garvey informed them that "SkyMaster" was a new brand of sneaker. "Since getting them in last week, I've made three sales," he said, checking his computer. "The first pair went to Todd Jones. You know him?" "Sure," Nina said. Everybody knew Todd "Beanpole" Jones. He resembled a seven foot tall skeleton and was the center of the high school basketball team.

"I sold the second pair to Ollie Infree. You kids probably don't know Ollie."

But they did. Ollie Infree was a petty criminal whose taste for red suits made him look like a fireplug, or like a short Santa without the beard. He'd been arrested several times, once on Max's and Nina's suggestion. But he always managed to avoid conviction. The third pair had been bought by Mona Everest, a human mountain, as tall as Beanpole and as stocky as Ollie. Mona had made a career for herself as a professional wrestler. Two years ago, she retired from the ring and moved to Harborville in order to breed toy poodles.

"We'll have to spy on them all," Nina whispered as they left the store. "Maybe break into their houses and see--" "We're not breaking into anyone's house," Max insisted. "I already think I know who the culprit is."

Solve- It...."The Skewered Sailor"
03:11 May 28 2013
Times Read: 595

Whom did Jackson regard as the prime suspect?



A. Ed Hinton



B. Scotty Fitzgerald



C. Florence Hemenway



D. Doug Hemenway









Solve: Why was that person the prime suspect?





The Solution:



Whom did Jackson regard as the prime suspect?



Doug Hemenway



The Explanation



Why was that person the prime suspect?



How other people responded:



12% said Ed Hinton

6% said Scotty Fitzgerald

24% said Florence Hemenway

58% said Doug Hemenway







The use of so awkward and difficult a weapon implies that the crime was hastily arranged that evening. The location of the crime and the search of club files imply that the murder was prompted by club business, which narrows the likely suspects to those at the board meeting the night of the crime and to the niece of the Fitzgeralds.



The killer knew how to fire the harpoon gun, and so must have been connected by blood or marriage to the Fitzgerald family. This narrows the suspects further to Scotty Fitzgerald and the Hemenway couple. Florence Hemenway, who worked late in a public restaurant, had a verifiable alibi. Either Scotty Fitzgerald or Doug Hemenway, both of whom were short, would likely have used the wooden chair to reach and fire the harpoon gun. Fitzgerald's crippling arthritis, however, prevented his climbing a chair. The prime suspect was therefore Doug Hemenway.



Jackson eventually found that Gordon Fitzgerald had suspected his brother of embezzling club funds. Fitzgerald had asked Hemenway just before the board meeting to meet him secretly back at the club after the meeting. When they returned and reentered the club (using Fitzgerald's key), they began to examine club records. Gordon's suspicions about Scotty were correct, but he did not know that Hemenway was in cahoots with the treasurer.



When Hemenway realized that a review of the records would reveal his complicity, he left the office as if to use the bathroom, scrambled to the harpoon gun, called Fitzgerald out of the office and, relying on the victim's limited mobility, harpooned him. The fact that he had stayed at a distance meant that he had avoided blood stains on his clothes that other more confrontational murder methods would have caused.



Hemenway wiped off the gun, hastily replaced the files, and arrived home just before his wife.

"The Skewered Sailor" Case 1....
02:56 May 28 2013
Times Read: 596






Greg Jackson shook his head in amazement. In his nineteen years with the North Kingstown police, the inspector had never seen a murder committed with a harpoon. Until now.



The sight of Gordon Fitzgerald, vice president of the North Kingstown Yacht Club, pinned to the wall of the Whaler's Room with a short harpoon had not been pretty. Jackson and the others gathered around the club conference table in the room were glad to have the body removed.



"Mr. Fitzgerald was found at six-thirty this morning by the custodian and the cook, who arrived here at the same time," said Jackson. "They called you, Mr. Hinton, and you called us and the members of the executive board."



"That's right, inspector," said Ed Hinton, the club president. "Why, we had a board meeting with Gordon at this very table last evening."



"What time was that?" asked Jackson.



"I started the meeting at seven-thirty. We adjourned two hours later. Gordon was here, as were his brother Scotty, our treasurer; Della McAfee, our secretary; Doug Hemenway, our legal consultant; and Doris Kenney, our member at large."



"Who was the last to leave?"



"We all left about the same time," replied Kenney. "Ed Hinton and I helped Gordon and Scotty Fitzgerald into their cars. They both have badly arthritic knees, and need help with stairs and getting into cars."



"How old was your brother, Mr. Fitzgerald?" Jackson asked.



"Gordon was seventy-two," replied Scotty Fitzgerald, a short, sunburnt man with a quavery voice. "I'm three years younger."



"Did you drive straight home?"



"Yes. I live alone, but can manage all right."



"How about you, Mr. Hinton? Mr. Hemenway? Ms. McAfee? Ms. Kenney?" They all said they had driven to their homes and stayed there. Florence Hemenway, a tall woman of thirty, raised her hand gingerly.



"I wasn't at the meeting, inspector," she said. "I'm the weeknight hostess at the Crow's Nest restaurant near here. I was on duty there until ten-thirty, and got home about eleven. Doug was already home."



"You are Mr. Hemenway's wife, correct?" asked Jackson.



"Correct. I'm also the niece of Uncle Gordon and Uncle Scotty Fitzgerald, so of course I had to come today. Didn't I, dear?" she said, turning to her husband.



"You did insist, dear," the diminutive attorney replied peevishly.



Jackson paused to look again at the harpoon gun mounted on the jutting mantel of the large stone hearth. No fingerprints had been found on the gun.



"That's a most unusual gun," he remarked. "Only a few feet long."



"It's a family heirloom," said Scotty Fitzgerald. "Designed by Captain Jack Fitzgerald of the whaler Ishmael. Been on loan to the club for many years, complete with ropeless harpoon."



"Didn't you regard that as a risk?" Jackson asked Hinton.



"It can be fired only by turning a special sequence of switches and knobs on top of the gun," Hinton replied testily, "and the sequence has been a Fitzgerald family secret. I thought it was safe enough."



Scotty Fitzgerald nodded sadly.



"I see." Jackson rubbed his chin in thought. "Who runs this place during the day, Mr. Hinton?"



"I do. I'm the club manager as well."



"The place was locked when the cook and custodian arrived this morning. Who has a key?"



"Besides myself, just John the custodian, the Fitzgerald brothers, and Della. John usually arrives first in the morning."



Jackson paused again to review some of the facts he had already learned. The medical examiner had given ten to ten-fifteen as the estimated time of death. The wooden chair in front of the hearth had some dried mud on the seat. The victim had been killed just by the door to the club office, where an open file cabinet drawer showed some misplaced financial files.



"Thank you all," he said abruptly. "You may go. I'll be in touch." Especially, he added to himself, with the prime suspect.

Just a Taste Case....Part 3
02:42 May 28 2013
Times Read: 604

Detective Nose emerged from his car and was immediately dwarfed by the grandeur before him. All at once he felt quite small to be in the presence of one so wealthy. Inhaling a deep breath he began the large trek up the marble walkway. The house, or rather estate, was easily worth over a million dollars and the proprietor far more than that. Or at least he "was" worth far more than that. Earlier that morning Detective Nose had received a call from the daughter of the late Monsieur Cyr, although the police had deemed his death accidental, Gertrude suspected foul play.



Nose approached the door and heaved upon the large ornate door knocker. Almost immediately it opened and Nose was greeted by a tiny, shrewd looking man.



"May I Help You?"



"Yes, I'm Detective Nose. I was summoned here to investigate the death of Mr. Cyr."



"I'm sorry sir, there must be some mistake, the police have already been and gone. No such summons was issued." The man began to close the door.



"Wait, wait! It's okay Geoffrey. I called him here just after the police departed. Please, Detective come in. Would you like some refreshments?"



"If it's all the same to you I'd like to get started right away, the longer we wait the less likely I'll find anything. Miss uh..."



"Gertrude Elizabeth Beatrice Cyr. You may address me as Miss Gertrude. That will be all Geoffrey. If I have need of you I will ring."



"Yes ma'am." The aged man, sluggishly departed. Watching him leave eerily reminded Nose of a small prime ape, not at all attractive. Why was he employed here, if not to scare away any unwanted visitors. A small smirk appeared by the corners of his mouth as detective Nose mused over these thoughts. Just then Geoffrey stole a quick glance towards the outdoor pool, completely overlooked by Gertrude, but not Detective Nose.



"I'd like to begin my investigation out there, Miss Gertrude." Detective Nose motioned towards the pool.



"How perceptive of you Detective, that's where father passed away earlier this morning." Gertrude led the detective towards the enormous sliding glass doors that not only led to the backyard, but the outdoor swimming pool as well. "As you are aware the police have already been here and surveyed the scene deeming poor fathers death an accident."



Nose surveyed the scene. The pool was well crafted, roughly, twenty by twenty five feet. There was a shallow end and a deep end complete with a diving board.



"Father had always enjoyed swimming and diving in his spare time. On occasion, he would go for hours. Geoffrey found his body in the pool this morning and called the police. He had a large bump on his head and had apparently been knocked unconscious, subsequentially drowning." Gertrude's eyes began to swell and she took out a delicate white hanky to wipe away a single tear. "The police believe it was an accident. They say that he slipped on the diving board and hit his head. I have my doubts and I sincerely hope you find more than they did."



Detective Nose noticed a trail of water going from the ladder at the edge of the pool to the diving board. The quantities suggested the story Miss Gertrude had regaled him with was true, Monsieur Cyr had been diving for hours. Bending down detective Nose placed his finger in the water and tasted it.



"Miss Gertrude I believe your convictions are right, there is more to Mr. Cyr's death than meets the eye."



Why did Detective Nose suspect foul play?

A Lucky Break Case.....Part 2
02:32 May 28 2013
Times Read: 609

Detective Nose reported to the scene of the robbery and immediately noticed that officers were already inside the store speaking with the owner. Since they looked occupied, Nose decided to take a look around to see what evidence he could collect.



The jewellery store was located facing a quiet street, attached to a small boutique on the right. A bright red canopy stretched across the building that seemed to add a touch of a class and elegance to the neighbourhood. As the detective walked around the building, he was careful to watch his step. The sidewalk was littered with broken glass from the large display window where Nose assumed the burglar had gained entry. Around to the left side of the building was a long alleyway that stretched as far as the Detective could see. The buildings that lined the alleyway had no windows facing the left side although he could see a few small air vents. To the back of the building was a steel reinforced door, which was locked.



Nose quickly drew a rough sketch of the scene in his notepad and then hurried off inside to join the officers. Fortunately, his arrival was just in time to hear the owner's recollection of the morning events.



"I don't really have much to tell you," the owner said. "I arrived this morning, albeit a few minutes late, to open up shop for the day. When I arrived, the first thing I noticed was the broken window. I took out my key and unlocked the front door. After taking a quick survey of what was missing, I phoned the police from the phone in my office. It is ironic since just last week I booked an appointment to have an alarm installed on the front door for early this morning. Our last system was outdated and was dismantled just yesterday in anticipation of installing the new alarm system."



The Detective took a quick look around and noticed many empty jewellery cases where necklaces, rings and other assorted treasures should have been and then he asked to have a private word with the police. They all stepped aside.



"He hasn't mentioned whether or not his jewellery was insured", said Nose, "but I'm willing to bet he is trying to commit insurance fraud!"



What lead Detective Nose to believe that the robbery was no more than an attempt at insurance fraud?

Hints and Answers to the Mysteries....
02:27 May 28 2013
Times Read: 618

Hint: The Chinese prefer to use symbols.Part 1 Case...



A LUCKY BREAK Part 2 Case...



Hint: Did a burglar break the window?



JUST A TASTE Part 3 Case...



Hint: It took just a taste!





Part 1 Case:

Answer: Geoffrey claims that he has been studying the Chinese culture for many years. However, if that's the case, he should have known that the Chinese do not have an alphabet but rather they utilize symbols to represent words and/or ideas.







A LUCKY BREAK: Part 2 Case..



Answer: Detective Nose suspects that the man used the opportunity presented by changing alarm systems to stage a burglary. His fatal error was that he broke the front window from the inside, which was evident from all the glass on the sidewalk. Had the window been broken from the outside, the glass would have been inside of the building, not on the sidewalk.







JUST A TASTE Part 3 Case...



Answer: The water that led from the pool ladder to the diving board was fresh water, not chlorinated water from the pool. Nose suspects that someone used a hose to make the trail of water so that it would look like Mr. Cyr was using the diving board.

Just a Glaring Error Case:....Part 1
02:22 May 28 2013
Times Read: 620

Detective Nose had just wrapped up a case in the upper town district of Trenton and since he was in the area decided to stop by and pay his friend Dr. Dean Lamar a visit at the museum. Dr. Dean was the director in charge at the museum and had been so for the past five years. By all accounts, he was doing a fantastic job.



When Nose arrived at his friend's office, he saw that he was in the middle of looking over some résumés.



"I'm looking to hire a tour guide to help with a new ancient Chinese exhibit that's due to arrive next week" said Dr. Dean. "I expect that this exhibit will attract hundreds of visitors and to tell you the truth, I'm a little worried that I may not be able to find a suitable guide to help with the attraction."



Detective Nose decided to sit down and assist his comrade sort through the large stack of resumes. They were near the end of the pile when Dr. Dean pointed out a resume to Nose that he felt might be from a suitable candidate.



Typed on a plain sheet of white paper was the resume of a man whose name was Geoffrey Montgomery. Under his qualifications he had a few relevant jobs listed with all the required references but it wasn't the job history that caught Dr. Dean's attention. Rather, under the heading of hobbies and interests, Geoff had listed that he was very much interested in the Chinese culture and had been studying their language, alphabet, geography, religions, history, and customs for close to ten years. The resume then went on to list other desirable traits and details that would be of some benefit to the position.



"I think we may have found our candidate," said Dr. Dean. "With his previous job experience and his extensive background knowledge of the Chinese culture, I doubt I will be able to find anyone else that is more suited for the task. I think I'll give him a call and see if we can meet this afternoon."



"I'd hold off on phoning him just yet if I were you. There's something off about his resume that leads me to believe that he is not being totally honest about his qualifications."



What mistake did Geoffrey make in his resume?