Lornbridge Hills – Day 1

I arrive at the gates of the Lornbridge Hills Golf Estate and a screen of trees forbiddingly stares at me. I follow a small driveway up the hill towards the obviously named “Mansion”. The Mansion functions as both a club house and event venue, according to Mick. Driving in, I swear I can smell the money here. Bates sits next to me, the junior officer assigned by Superintendent Mick Thomson to help with this case. We first met at The Indigo Bar in Nutbourne. While I may not be the Italian vixen of his dreams, he certainly holds a level of respect for me after I solved the mystery of Billy Grahame’s death. He’s doing well despite an obvious hangover. It’s New Year’s Day so I can hardly blame him. I spent New Year’s alone, but this time I’m not fussed. I’m feeling a little less lonely these days thanks to a chance encounter in Berlin before Christmas. Bates points the way to the Kowlinksi house, but a man in a blue pinstriped suit motions for us to stop. I stop my Volvo and get out. The stranger shakes my hand warmly.

“Good afternoon Detective Palandri! We’ve been expecting you. I am Neil Vahr, the General Manager of Lornbridge Hills Golf Club and Estate. Please understand that I have tried to keep this… matter… utterly quiet. We have a policy of absolute discretion here at Lornbridge Hills. Our aim is to extend that to our guests, and especially, to our residents. Can we rely on your office to do the same?”

I arch an eyebrow and nod, squinting at the winter sun. It’s one of those cold but sunny days, beautiful clear skies. An encouraging start to the year ahead, despite a murder investigation so soon into it. 

“Rest assured, Mr Vahr. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to start the investigation. Bates here will keep you updated.”

I get back into the car and let Bates direct me to the house. A couple of minutes later, we arrive outside the Kowlinski residence, a large brick manor house. The estate reminds me of the cul-de-sacs in Nutbourne, only enlarged. The family has been told the bad news and that they should stay at home today. Mick phoned me early this morning and it wasn’t to wish me a Happy New Year. The body of a young woman was found yesterday evening at the estate. The body was identified by a resident as Sian Kowlinski, also resident at the estate. The cause of death is unknown, pending the local coroner’s report.

Sian was found dead roughly 70 metres from her home, in a dense underbrush of a copse of trees running along the perimeter of the residential area. Eyewitness reports state that she had a visible injury to her head which was slightly obscured by dried blood. Her clothing was intact and undamaged, and relatively clean. She was found buried in a very shallow grave of soil and leaves. The Landscape Executive and resident, Mr Eddie Cho, says that he found the body while inspecting the grounds with his pet Beagle, Bagel. The dog, which is apparently exceptionally well-trained, suddenly dashed into a nearby copse and began to bark. Mr Cho left the path to investigate when he came across a hand protruding from the underbrush. He reports that he did not touch the body and immediately phoned the police. Mick received the call at 16:35, and two officers were sent to conduct a preliminary investigation. The crime scene has since been closed off pending further investigation. No weapon was found at the scene.

Aisling Kowlinski opens the door and is exactly what I expected. Richly draped in fur, dramatic, sign of tears having fallen down her face, but she remains remarkably composed. I recall the family detail and put names to faces as I enter.

  • Joseph Kowlinski (46)
  • Aisling Kowlinski (39)
  • Sian Kowlinski  Deceased (20)
  • Ariel Kowlinski (18)
  • Roquefort Kowlinski (1)

Joseph and Aisling were married on March 22nd 2013. They have both been married before. Joseph lost his wife to brain cancer and Aisling’s husband disappeared.

Bates informed me during the drive here that Aisling has a previous arrest without conviction at age 18 for cocaine possession, in Brighton. She was given a warning. She denies taking any drugs subsequently and says that she has been clean since. The rest of the family have no criminal record.

Joseph is a prominent lawyer. He is the largest shareholder and CEO of the law firm, Kowlinski, Kubrick, and Koch, which has handled some of the highest profile cases in southern England during the last decade. They are currently negotiating an acquisition with a smaller competing firm, which has kept him in London most nights of the week for the last month.

Ariel is a slight girl, with strong features. Looking at her, she will never be beautiful, possibly not even pretty. She has the same unassuming smile I remember seeing on myself in old photos. According to Bates, she is incredibly intelligent, having achieved almost perfect scores at secondary school since day one. She is a shoe-in for Oxford, with her father’s connections. Her chosen major is Bionanotechnology, and she plans to research “drug delivery to cells via nanoparticle transmission”. Her University entrance paper was a discussion on the “fine line between poisons and potions”.

Roquefort is the new baby. He cries and eats. He has jet black hair and I think I can see his father’s features in him. The nanny, Zabina, whispers that she has “no idea what happens to the poor kiddo when I’m not around” as she walks past. She works weekdays only and the family looks after itself on weekends at Joseph’s insistence.

Bates says the family were all at home yesterday afternoon and evening. However, Sian has been absent for three days. On Friday December 29th at about 8pm, Sian left the house and said she was going to a friend’s place, and told her parents not to worry if she didn’t come home that night. Apparently this was quite common for her and she didn’t say which friend.

Zabina was already home at the time in nearby Marrington, since she doesn’t work weekends.

No one knows if Sian was in a relationship, but she’s had boyfriends over before, and as far as they know there was no one new. 

“Mr and Mrs. Kowlinski, may we speak privately?” I ask.

Aisling glares at me. I wonder what she thinks of me, this slightly overweight middle-aged Italian woman leading the investigation of her daughter’s death. Looking at her again, I notice her fiery hair, pale skin, and green eyes. She had a difficult childhood, due to poverty, she says. She continues to look at me defiantly as she relates her story, daring me to judge her. She had been working at a bank at the time she was arrested for possession. She claims that the drugs belonged to a wealthy male friend whose coat she was wearing at the time. She met her first husband, Sean Degianis, a while later when he came to the bank branch she worked at as an auditor. He was the son of the CEO of a large auditing firm, and he was both fiscally and professionally secure. She says if it wasn’t for love, at least it was security. She reports that the marriage was reasonably successful. They weren’t madly in love, but they didn’t hate each other.

Sian was their only child. When Sian was a young girl, Sean suddenly disappeared. Aisling relates bitterly that he probably went looking for someone younger and bustier. However, he wasn’t heard from again. His accounts were untouched, his car disappeared, and no one reported seeing him, despite a missing persons ad Aisling kept up for six years. They hadn’t had a fight, and no, she hadn’t killed him she says. The incident was thoroughly investigated at the time, and camera footage showed Sean at a newsagents on his way into London, while Aisling was home. Her alibi was strong, there was no evidence of a murder, so the case was listed as a missing persons case.

Things became a little trickier though. Sian and Aisling, who were living on the small fortune Sean had left in his and Aisling’s joint account, began to receive disturbing mails. Aisling sneers as she tells this part of the story. They received the same package in the mail every year since Sean left, on the anniversary of the day he left- a box containing the shards of a broken piggybank and a small note signed S. D. D in pink lipstick. Because of this ‘harassment’, as Aisling calls it, the state refuses to declare Sean dead in absentia.

They were otherwise untroubled, and Sian grew up. Aisling met Joseph a few years ago. He helped her get a divorce in absentia, which was allowed on the grounds of abandonment. Aisling declared that the shared account was almost empty and she would need access to money from his estate to support Sian, whose huge trust fund was only due when she turned 21. The government, however, froze his domestic accounts and refused to release the money until he could be declared dead. If she chose to divorce, she would not be able to claim anything from the estate for herself. Aisling says she was so frustrated by that point, that when she met Joseph she felt her prayers had been answered. After Joseph assisted Aisling with the divorce they decided to marry. Aisling and Sian were once again financially secure. As a bonus, Sian took to Joseph immediately.

“She was my baby, my only daughter, detective,” Aisling says. “I had a tough life growing up. It wasn’t easy. But I knew what I looked like. And I had a brain. My Sian had the same thing. She was so beautiful. Why would anyone want to take that away from my daughter? We had our fights like any young mother and daughter. But we always stuck together. Ever since her dad left us all those years ago, we’ve only had each other. I would have known if there was someone she was seeing at college. She hasn’t been scared of bringing boys for dinner before. She didn’t care if we liked them or not. That was my Sian. Fierce and proud and beautiful.”

Joseph has much less to say. He is taking over the smaller firm with the assistance of a merger specialist who is also a resident of the estate. The firm was doing very well, and the acquisition is a happy one for both parties. Joseph says that he’s done his best to make sure no one loses their job in the merger. So far, so good he says.

“Did Sian’s dissapearance concern you?” I ask. “It’s been three days, after all.”

“Not at first,” Joseph replies. “Sian was an independent spirit, like her mother. She would often spend days at a time out with friends. She is… was… 20 now, after all. Not seeing her yesterday for New Year’s was concerning, however. We were eager to locate her and then the officer knocked on our door… Aisling and I went out on the 29th to a benefit hosted by Mrs Haverford next door. It was in Marrington and it ended quite late. We didn’t see Sian after that. She had left a message that she was going out so we thought nothing of it at the time.”

I nod and ask to have a word with Ariel. Compared to Aisling, it’s very difficult to get young Ariel to speak. She stares and stammers, and she insists she knows nothing, perhaps a little too much so. I notice a picture on the mantelpiece of her playing cricket and decide to ask about it, taking a different angle. She tells me a little, and contrary to expectation, she is an avid cricket fan and player, and plays in the local youth team every second weekend. She watches matches during the season whenever she can, but her father is usually too busy on the golf course, and Aisling detests the very idea of sitting and watching a full game. She will tell me nothing more. I get the feeling that I should give Ariel some time before questioning her further.

I thank the Kowlinski’s for their time and leave with Bates. I ask him to take me to the crime scene. There is nothing really to see, but I need the visual. The copse of trees where Sian’s body was found lies in-between the row of resident’s houses and the golf course behind them. Once inside the copse, I look up, down and all around. Nothing, except the shallow grave which looks hastily thrown together. The light covering of leaves, soil and twigs mean it’s likely that even if Eddie Cho’s dog hadn’t found it, someone would have sooner rather than later.

I decide to call it a day. Bates’ hangover is getting worse by the minute and I’m eager to return to the plans I had set in place this morning before this case interrupted them. Right now I’m meant to be on a third date with Jeremy, my Berlin Christmas market encounter. I booked a much needed last minute getaway after the Billy Grahame case. We started chatting after we simultaneously reached for the same wooden Nutcracker soldier. I was annoyed at first, until he flashed an apologetic smile and made a clever joke about nut-cracking that would likely put him on Babbo Natale’s naughty list.  We continued to chat and found ourselves at a spiced mulled wine stall, where we discovered that we lived half an hour from each other back home. Jeremy was in Berlin on business, attending a trade show at Messe Berlin to represent his home furnishings company. Right now, it’s simply enjoyable evenings with a smart individual outside of the work and family sphere. I don’t fall for people easily – they need to earn my trust and respect first. But there’s something about him… He’s certainly captured my attention in a way I didn’t expect. The last man to do that was David Attenborough. I message Jeremy. After a little back and forth we decide to leave date three for another day. I need to process my thoughts on the Kowlinski family first, anyway.

 

© Intrigue Inn

Leave your comments below! (Don’t read if you would like to avoid speculation)

Advertisements

The Indigo Bar – Day 7

I feel a certain level of sympathy for the murderer as I approach their house. Either I’m becoming softer or I simply empathise with the cause, as abhorrent and desperate as murder is. It’s true that this case involved a leech of a man, to use Pablo Whitten’s words. A man who in someone’s eyes had to be stopped, violently, in order to protect both themselves and another.  An attempt was also made to frame someone else in the process. I knock on the door, which opens a few seconds later.

“Hello, Craig. Can I come in and chat, please?”

Craig nods slowly. Perhaps he knows what I’m here for.

It’s not easy arresting Craig, a young man with his whole life ahead of him. He knew what he was doing, however. This wasn’t an intently thought out act, but it also wasn’t spur of the moment. He denies everything at first, as expected, but quickly breaks down and acquiesces. It’s not a pleasant conversation. I’m glad his mother is asleep while we talk. I call Mick afterwards.

“The tarot card was a ploy, Mick. A diversion set in place to frame someone who knew about that world in order to take the heat off Jon and Craig. Specifically targeting Phoebe after she rejected him and made him feel like a fool when she accused him of stalking her. She’s now back with her ex-boyfriend, and the unfairness of it, in his eyes, seeped through him. Humiliation turned into anger. After a few days of interviewing suspects, I started to wonder if the board game and the tarot card were really that important at all, as everything had been deliberately set up to point to this game being the cause of his death. It was all a show.”

“I see. But he didn’t kill Billy simply to go after Phoebe Moore, I assume?”

      “Oh no, that was just an additional thought in his process. No, Craig killed Billy to protect Jon and his business – a man and a venue that had done so much for Craig. It became quite clear to me that Billy was looking for his next big idea. Even though the board game was in its early stages, he was already keen to move on to the next thing, especially after being rejected by Sirius Games. After spending some time at The Indigo Bar, Billy had his eye on these new, exciting cocktails Jon was working on. It seems like Billy was a man who just couldn’t help himself when something new and shiny came along. And those cocktails were certainly unique and imaginative, however bizarre they seemed to me. Billy had expressed an interest in these creations, even snooped around to potentially copy some of the ideas. Craig saw what Billy had done with the board game, how he had a way of getting close to people and pumping ideas out of them, as Maria Banks put it. He was terrified of Billy copying their ideas next – the very project that Craig was so excited about, producing these flashy drinks with Jon, who was not just a mentor but really a sort of father figure. Together, they could move towards big things and away from mediocrity, and Billy could have spoiled everything. Jon really saved Craig. He’s a 22-year-old man, struggling to look after his mother, and Jon went above and beyond to assist in looking after her, as well as helping Craig achieve his goals. I imagine Craig felt indebted to Jon. He clearly cares for his mother and Jon’s help would have been a huge relief. And now, with these cocktails, along comes an opportunity that in the long run could help Craig to support himself and his mother financially.”

“Craig correctly suspected that Billy wanted to come to Indigo early on Monday and have the place to himself so he could snoop until his heart was content, all under the pretence of needing some extra time to prepare his prototype. He’d seen Billy prying. Even Maria Banks mentioned her confusion at Billy wanting that extra time beforehand. It was the time to strike, and only Craig was fully aware of Billy’s intentions. Craig must have known how Jon tends not to notice the problems right in front of him. I certainly did. Jon realises there are issues but doesn’t look beyond them. It would be so easy to fix up that bar, for example! He knows it’s failing but he can’t see why, as plain as it may be to others. In the same vein, he could tell Billy was potentially bad trouble, but he had no idea he was looking to steal his ideas. Even I became a little infuriated this week as I noticed how unobservant he is, so it must have been painful for Craig as he foresaw what was happening.”

“Craig couldn’t just stand back and watch Billy take advantage of Jon and his plans, then,” Mick says. “Stealing them, repackaging them as his own. Seems a bit drastic to kill him perhaps? I would have just sat Billy down and told him what’s what.”

I laugh. “You’re a middle-aged man, the Superintendent! Craig is a shy, lonely and sensitive young man. In his eyes, Billy had to go. Murder was the easier route. A coward’s way, attacking from behind rather than attempting a confrontation.”

“And meanwhile his mother was none the wiser?”

“His mother said he was at home, as any trusting mother would do, and this is a mother who was bedridden upstairs. Craig could have snuck out or made up anything he liked, before and after the murder. Talking with Billy’s mother, Miriam, and thinking of Phoebe’s, I was reminded of how mothers always want to see the best in their children. Craig’s alibi was his mother. A mother shocked at the suggestion of him being involved. A suffering, housebound mother who may not have always been aware of what Craig was doing. When I thought about it, it was surely the weakest of the alibis. Now, Dora Murphy didn’t even have an alibi, but I ruled her out early on, despite her knowledge of tarot. It just seemed too obvious. All the alibis I called spoke with conviction, but Craig’s mother could have been fooled easily. What do mothers really know, Phoebe told me. It made me think of my own mother, too. But that’s another story.”

“Framing Phoebe just made sense as he got carried away with his plan. He naturally rifled through Phoebe’s shopping bag once he found out she’d left it behind the week before. That bag contained the pack of tarot cards from which the card in Billy’s hand came from. When you’re infatuated with someone you often can’t help being nosy. At this point, days before Billy’s death, the crazy idea of murder had already taken hold I imagine, and now a new idea of framing the girl who had just hurt him was presenting itself. Throw the suspicion onto her. Make the motive look tarot related. A quick internet search will tell you which tarot cards represent betrayal. It was easy enough for me to pick up. Plus, Phoebe’s a chatterbox who loved to talk about her new hobby and would have shared various details with Craig. She was trying to get him into it. So, Craig was able to select a card from the pack that suited his purpose with ease. Not only was the Seven of Swords true for what he preempted Billy doing to Jon, but he’d seen it happen with his own eyes when Billy presented the game prototype to the gamers. The swords were all their ideas, and he’d run off with them, or was planning to, anyway. It was perfect for Craig to throw suspicion onto the gamers and away from him and Jon after witnessing this. Next step, use a weapon that out of all the gamers, only Phoebe knew where it was stored – the ashtray.”

“You know, I think you’re feeling a bit sorry for the kid, Fran,” Mick tells me. “You’re changing! You usually don’t like anyone. And this one bashed a man’s head in. Thank you, though. You’ve put this one to rest with speed and efficiency.”

“That’s my job,” I reply simply.

“I know, I know. Listen, fancy joining Helen and I for dinner tonight? You need to get out of that flat of yours more. Maybe the new restaurant on the seafront I mentioned?”

“Wow, so you liked it, then?”

“I surprised myself. I was going to play it safe with a salmon pasta but I tried some kind of seafood stew – chopini? It was decent.”

I try not to wince at his pronunciation. If there’s anything I’ve learnt during this investigation it’s that less surliness and a greater tolerance for these small town Brits would serve me well. After all, understanding the importance of Craig’s desire to go beyond his cul-de-sac and embrace greater things is partly what helped me solve this case.

 “Cioppino. I’m impressed,” I tell Mick. “My mother would be happy to know that. Maybe it’s time you join one of our weekly meals.”

“Well, your mother sounds quite formidable, I wouldn’t want to offend. Then again, I’ve been dealing with you for the better part of a decade now, and you’ve become formidable enough yourself.”

“I hope you mean that in reference to my detective work.”

“Oh, absolutely, Fran.”

I laugh. “Well, I’d love to join you and Helen tonight. Thank you.” He’s right. I’m one cat away from becoming a lonely, grumpy stereotype. A nice meal out is a start, but it may not cut it. I think it’s time for a holiday soon.

Before all that though, I have a date with David Attenborough and a glass of Chianti.

 

© Intrigue Inn

The Indigo Bar – Day 6

My first stop of the day is Maria Banks’ house. She looks nervously behind her, the door ajar.

“Look, give me two minutes. We can talk at a cafe,” she whispers.

She returns shortly, having left the twins with her husband, and accompanies me to a small Portuguese cafe nearby, ordering a large gin and tonic on arrival. It’s Saturday morning. I try not to raise an eyebrow. I’ve lived in Britain long enough now to understand the drinking habits here. As far as I’m concerned, when it comes to daytime drinking, a glass of wine is acceptable at lunchtime followed by an aperitivo later in the day, early evening usually. 11 am is a little classless. She has reason to calm her nerves, though, so I try to be sympathetic.

“So you sussed out the affair did you?” Her drink arrives on the table and she takes a big gulp.

“I wondered if you were the new woman in Billy’s life, yes. His mother mentioned she thought he’d met someone. A few other clues fell into place after that. Other people’s comments. And you seem a little out of place in the gaming group.”

“Look, it got out of hand. We met at a bar one night while Adrian was flying to Morocco. I didn’t even find Billy that attractive. He’s reckless and all over the place. I don’t even know how I ended up back at his… he just, he knew what to say, I suppose. I needed to feel wanted and he knew how to do it. I suppose that’s why I let it continue, despite my suspicions about what kind of man he really was. Those questions I suppressed like why has he moved around so much? Why is he pumping ideas out of these people and they don’t even realize? He does it to everybody. He even liked to snoop around The Indigo Bar when no one was around. He told me these board game nights would be fun, but really I was befuddled most of the time. This card means I can take that artefact, that artefact means I can take this card… it’s too confusing. I guess you probably realized how little I knew about these games and wondered why I was there, then? If you want to know why I lied about it, well of course I lied, I don’t want news of this breaking and I’m asking you, please, do not let it.”

I almost laugh out loud, she’s asking me – ordering me, even, to keep this quiet when she’s committed perjury here. I feel the sympathy I mustered up earlier ebb away.

“The other gamers assured me they wouldn’t mention it. It was sort of unspoken universal knowledge that something was going on between Billy and me, and the rest of the group knew how incriminating it would look after his death. Dora told me she’d keep everyone quiet.”

Even better, group perjury.

She laughs bitterly. “I couldn’t contribute anything to that silly board game so I contributed to his life in other ways. And no, it does not give me more reason to kill him. Why would I want to get rid of one of the only things making me happy? Having an affair didn’t make me any wiser about tarot cards, anyway… I’m clueless either way. I honestly have no idea what the three of knives or whatever card was stuck in his hand means at all. Adrian said you checked in with him as an alibi anyway. He told you I was at home, and that’s the truth. He’s definitely suspicious of an affair happening, though.”

She stops talking and finishes the rest of her drink while I suddenly feel grateful to be living a romance-free life. Adrian did confirm yesterday that Maria was at home, but how reliable is the testimony of a loved one? The same could be said for the other alibis, too. All the family and friends I contacted certainly sounded sincere, though, and I’m inclined to trust their words. If they were sure of what they were saying then it’s possible these alibis have been hoodwinked themselves, somehow.  Only Dora has no alibi. She was alone before Phoebe arrived at her cottage to pick her up. 

“It was horrible seeing his body like that,” Maria says. “What was interesting, mind you, was seeing Phoebe, Dora and Albert shocked, but not sad. None of them were! The gamers anyway. Jon looked upset. Bet he regrets letting us all in every week now, eh?”

She sighs heavily. “Look, I know what Billy was like. He didn’t involve me in that board game because he knew I wouldn’t be able to help much, I was there for him, not the games, but I think he also wanted to keep me somewhat separate from his ulterior motives. I’m not stupid, though. Anyone could see what he was doing. Dora was furious when he presented that tarot game to everyone. You could see it in her eyes. She’s an old spinster, but she would have been quite happy quietly plotting her revenge as she calmly claimed a monastery in a game of Carcassonne. Oh, that’s one of the few games I did understand. It was shoved down my throat so much I had no choice! But tarot? No, I knew nothing about that. This was some sort of symbolic death involving the meaning of tarot. I couldn’t tell you anything about it, except for the fact it’s a load of rubbish.”

*

Following Maria’s admission, it’s time to get one out of Albert. I digest Maria’s info dump and debate her innocence before Albert arrives at the same cafe thirty minutes later. I’m fed up with all the back and forth over the last few days. I told him he can come to me, his lie about his involvement is the reason we’re speaking, after all.

Albert looks nervous when I place his CV in front of him.

“What’s this about?” he asks, confused.

“I found this behind Indigo’s bar and I’m curious to know about your work history. In particular, your time spent at Room Xcape West End last summer.”

Albert opens his mouth to challenge me but then changes his mind and closes it. He nods slowly before responding, having rethought his answer.

“Look, I guess I’m guilty of something, but I don’t know what, exactly. I love board games. That’s true. But, uh… I didn’t join this group because of my personal interest. There was another reason, but truly, honestly, I don’t know the full extent of it. I was in the dark a little. I was told to join the gamers by my former manager at Xcape. I wouldn’t have participated otherwise. Why would I? I mean, I have my good friends to play board games with. I’d rather play an intense session of Eldritch Horror with Coral than have Maria asking questions over Takenoko every two minutes. I don’t really need that dysfunctional group. And now… what have I gotten myself into?” He’s beginning to look distressed. “Pablo asked me to keep an eye on Billy and report back to him. We were planning to meet and discuss what Billy was up to a few days ago, in fact. But my news ended up being that Billy had died. Pablo wanted me to note down anything shady, and, well, I had a list. Especially after the game reveal last week. But that’s all that happened, I swear.” He breaks eye contact and starts looking out the window.

I nod and tell him I’ll be in touch. It could be that he was simply asked to keep an eye on Billy and didn’t see why not, especially as it allowed him to network with fellow board gamers. He must have had some idea what was going on, though. Then again, this is a young man with his head in the clouds, wrapped up in his geek life. After he leaves, I give Pablo a call and tell him to meet me at the cafe also. It’s not just laziness. They make the best cappuccinos I’ve had all week.

*

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Pablo says a little while later, sat down in the seat occupied by his partner in crime Albert earlier. I just nod. It’s a shame, really. I was toying with the idea of getting to know Pablo better, on a personal level. But now he just looks nervous, stressed and caught out. Most off-putting.

“Honestly, though, it was just building up information to strengthen our case. That would have been great for us in court – proof that Billy was continuing to steal other people’s ideas – this time at a poky bar in Nutbourne. Or an admission of what he’d done to us, perhaps. A long shot, I know. I tracked Billy’s whereabouts on social media and when I found out he was back in his hometown, where Albert also lived, I got in touch with Albert and asked if he would be interested. It was perfect for him to join up as a board game fan. Well, I hadn’t spoken to Albert in a while, not since he worked for us, but Albert’s a yes man so he agreed. And we learned a lot from that. I came down on Tuesday, as I already told you. Albert met me at the train station – I wasn’t expecting that – and told me Billy was dead. Poor kid was nervous as hell. Thought he’d become caught up in some murder plot. I assured him that it wasn’t anything to do with me or the court case. As I said, looks like someone else Billy ticked off decided to take a more dramatic revenge.”

Possibly, unless there’s more to Albert and Pablo’s story. They’ve omitted information already, so maybe there’s more to be revealed. I take some notes after Pablo leaves. It’s probably time to get going. Three cappuccinos is certainly enough.

Before leaving, I decide to call Jon Montgomery to check the details of Phoebe’s left behind shopping bag containing her steampunk tarot set.

“So you placed the bag behind the bar and it remained there for a couple of days before Phoebe picked it up?” I ask Jon over the phone.

“Right. I suppose anyone could have come in and looked through it as we always have the front door open. I don’t really expect anyone to be walking in when I’m in the back. Especially not anyone suspicious. Not in Nutbourne, anyway. I mean, most people walk past Indigo without even realizing it’s there.”

Because you’ve done nothing to make it stand out, that’s why. It’s an interesting pattern I’ve noticed with Jon. He seems aware that problems exist but he doesn’t have any idea why. Issues so glaring but he just can’t spot them. It should be so obvious that the front display needs a makeover. It’s almost infuriating to see his business failing when it could so easily be fixed.

“And you never saw anyone snoop around the bar? One of the gamers, perhaps?”

“No. Not that I can think of. According to Craig, Billy himself liked to snoop, although I never noticed. But I’m guessing that doesn’t help you. I was very focused on testing a new cocktail idea that week. A bacon flavoured vodka served in a quail’s egg.”

“Oh, right. Interesting.” How do you respond to that? It doesn’t even sound practical. It’s certainly novel. “Thank you, Jon.”

I hang up and tap my thumb on the side of the table as I think. The loose threads are coming together, and I’m almost certain I have all the information I need. I just need to go home and dissect it all to be sure.

 

© Intrigue Inn

Think you know the solution? Message us your theory on our contact page! If you’re correct we’ll congratulate you on our Facebook page! Whether you want to leave your thoughts or not, send us the message INDIGO BAR – DAY 7 on either the contact page or the comments below (just be sure to leave your email if it’s below) and you’ll receive the password to view the final part!

The Indigo Bar – Day 5

Pablo Whitten, short, tanned and compact (I can’t help notice) strolls into The White Hart in messy shorts covered in paint and a polo shirt. He looks roughly around my age. If we’re having drinks, I hope Pablo’s buying like Phoebe did. It’s seven pounds for the house white here. That’s a crime in itself.

“Sorry, I’ve just come straight from the new room, it’s a bit of a mess. It’ll look fantastic when it’s finished, though. It’s ocean diver themed,” he tells me enthusiastically.

I’ve never tried an escape room so I just smile back. Mick has told me I’d fly through them, but I can’t decide if being locked in a room for an hour is something I’d actually like to pay money for.

Pablo orders a chai latte and nothing for me. I’ll just sit here sipping air then.

“Well. Billy dead,” he says, opening his hands and then clasping them together. “I don’t know if I’m surprised or not. The man was all over the place, constantly on the move looking for someone new to take advantage of. We just wanted to take him to court. Looks like someone else had more of a quick fix. Bit drastic, though.”

I ask him about the court case.

“He came as a customer to our venue about a year ago and we chatted afterwards about marketing and how we were building our business. He said he was keen to help and later sent me an email offering some suggestions and recommendations, and that he’d love to get involved. I didn’t really know much of his background, but he seemed professional. Spoke well. There’s a mistake I won’t be making again with people. It’s the car salesman technique! If I knew he was such a drifter… a leech looking for the next big ‘fad’ he could jump on, absorb everything he could find out and regurgitate it as his own material later down the line, well, obviously I wouldn’t have encouraged him. I ended up telling him all about a new idea we had, something new in the world of London escape rooms – I can’t speak for the rest of the world – that needed some promotion. It basically involved the elements of an escape room outside mixed with an assault course. Well, after that we didn’t hear much from Billy. He said he was currently busy with other projects. Turns out his other project was just a copy of our new idea. A few months later he was working with an events company and he ran an outdoor event in Oxford which took every key element of our assault course escape. Puzzles I’d talked about had been replicated, word for word. Now, I just don’t have time for that. I reported the situation at once. I had all the emails filed away, I wasn’t about to let this go. He was due in court next week. Not sure what will happen now… I see board gamers became his next target? There would always have been something with Billy. Whatever made a quick buck suited him fine, then it was time to move on. How can you live like that? And feel proud of your accomplishments? It’s totally bizarre to me.”

I shrug sympathetically to encourage his emotions. “As you mentioned in your email, you only came down to Nutbourne on Tuesday? So you weren’t around when Billy was murdered?”

“Right. I can show you the train ticket if it’s really necessary.”

It’s not, at least for the moment, anyway. I thank Pablo for his time, not before mentioning how thirsty I am, taking a jug of water and a glass from a nearby stand. It’s petty, and there’s absolutely no reason why suspects should buy me drinks, but I can’t help myself. I push away a thought that’s it because I find Pablo attractive and was hoping he’d act as a gentleman towards me also.

*

I decide it’s time to swing by Indigo to search for any missed clues. On the way, I can drop by the rented flat of the two regulars Bates mentioned to me. Jennifer and her girlfriend Sam have been regulars at the Indigo Bar for a couple of months, according to Bates’ notes. I knock on the door to their small second floor flat on Haden Road, just a few doors down from Indigo. Jennifer opens the door with a cup of tea in her hand.

“Oh! We were expecting someone to follow up, come in. Sam is out right now. Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess in here.”

What’s new in this town? I thought Brits liked to keep up appearances! She removes a tie-dye throw from a grey armchair next to a wonky Christmas tree and offers me a seat.

“If you’re keen to know, we didn’t see anything… We don’t know who came and went that evening. We were too busy with The Great British Bake Off and only looked outside when we saw the flashing ambulance lights….”

“Well, so let us know if anything comes to mind,” I say. “May I ask, what did you enjoy about the Indigo Bar, proximity aside?”

“Well, it was quiet, for one thing. It had a quirky, different vibe and decor that we liked. And their new craft cocktails! Jon seems pretty humble, he won’t admit what a great mixologist he really is! He’s one of the best we’ve come across. I’m sure he and his staff have a lot of fun creating various drinks. It’s more than just liquid nitrogen and foam, you know, like other drink trends going around. Some drinks you have to order an hour in advance to let them infuse, like his tea-based cocktails. Ice that lasts all night, colourful multilayers, edible flowers… there’s nowhere else in this part of England, let alone this county that’s serving drinks like that, and don’t let Jon tell you otherwise. I don’t think you could find drinks like this in London, even. And the smells! That one with a floating cloud of bay leaf and rosemary… Wow. He likes to use a lot of international spirits that not many people have heard of also – soju and palinka, for example. It’s such a shame people aren’t coming to this bar! But as I said, we like it that way. It’s our little secret, this tucked away goldmine, while everyone else hits the high street pubs for a standard pint of overpriced beer. If Jon put his mind to it he could be featured in one of those fancy dining magazines in a list like ‘5 UK Bars to Watch Out For!’ He just needs some confidence in what he’s doing. And marketing. Some decent marketing would definitely help.”

I can agree with that.

*

I’ve been eager to snoop around Indigo for a couple of days now. With everything I’ve learned over the last few week, there may well be clues that I or the CSI team missed. Especially amongst all that clutter. I almost drive past the bar, again. I phoned Jon in advance and he told me Craig would be at work, preparing for the Friday evening shift.

I head inside, there’s no one there. Craig must be in the cramped office. I use the opportunity to snoop around and go behind the bar. There’s a collection of folders and loose paperwork, internet printouts and brainstorming scribbles tucked underneath. There are some papers detailing a lava lamp style cocktail.  Honestly… what’s wrong with a classic Negroni? I pull out a layer of messy papers underneath – mainly bills, a couple of them reminder notices. Poor Jon. A few CV’s from people looking for bar work. They came to the wrong place here. There’s barely enough for Craig to do. I pause on the third CV, it belongs to Albert Liu. Scrolling through his work history I notice some time spent in London working at Room Xcape West End. I shake my head. Albert mentioned he had worked at an escape room, but I didn’t imagine it would be Pablo’s. I’ll be keeping hold of this. I look through more cocktail ideas scribbled down with a post-it on top marked ‘Put away with the other notes – keep private!’

I search the back room but it’s basically alcohol stock, plus ingredients and equipment for the out-of-the-ordinary cocktail creations, as well as several props that haven’t found their way into the bar’s interior yet – a Venetian carnival mask, a string of fairy lights and some Japanese street signs. Trying to decipher a link between these props would be a game in itself. There are a couple of photos at the back of the room lying on a shelf, with a post-it marked “Create a board of customer photos?” The photos feature mainly Jon, Craig and Phoebe. There’s also a middle-aged woman I don’t recognize. These three seem closer than they’ve let on.

“Hello?” Craig’s voice calls out.

“Hi Craig, Detective Palandri here,” I say formally as I step out of the storage cupboard, to serve as a reminder that I’m entitled to look wherever I please when I’m snooping. I realize I have the photos in my hand still so decide to share them with Craig.

“Just seeing if there’s anything we’ve missed. If you don’t mind my asking, who’s the woman in these pictures?”

“That’s okay. Billy used to snoop around so I guess I had flashbacks there for a second.” He looks at the pictures. “Ah, that’s my mother there, when she was still able to get out of the house regularly,” he tells me sadly, frowning at the picture. “Jon used to make sure she was social when he could, he’d make sure she was always invited for a drink here. He’s really helped a lot – these days while she’s housebound he comes around, often with food and chats with her. All this as well as involving me in the business.”

“You really take pride in this job, don’t you?”

He blushes a little. “Well, it’s an investment on my part that should lead to big rewards working here. You must have noticed our cocktails notes. Jon has really looked after me, and my mum. So, I want to look after Indigo.”

“What were you doing before this?”

“I was just working in a little bakery before. Nothing much to talk about. I was quite experimental there, too. With the bakes. Or at least I tried to be. The managers weren’t fond of me trying to create new and interesting flavours. They just wanted to stick with the tried and tested pastries. Here, I feel like… it feels like we could do such great things!”

“Phoebe joins you for get-togethers also?” I ask.

“She did for a short while… I just, I don’t know… I’m not sure where we stand exactly, so it’s hard to say if she still will. I don’t think it’s going to work out, not that there was anything going on in the first place, and that’s okay.” He pauses. “She told me I was stalking her.”

“And were you?”

“I liked her… but I wouldn’t say I was stalking her… she’s just really… cool, you know?”

Youthful infatuation. It was about time someone felt that for me again. Or vice versa. Unfortunately though I think my cool days are over.

“Craig, I wanted to ask you, were you aware of a shopping bag left by Phoebe here the Monday before Billy’s death? Jon would have left it behind the bar.”

“Oh, I did see a grey bag. I remember Jon mentioning it was Phoebe’s. I don’t know what was in it, just left it where it was, then noticed a couple of days later it was gone.  She came to pick it up I assume. Why?”

I smile. “Just working out some small details.” I leave Craig to it and get in touch with Albert Liu to discuss a certain omission in our earlier chat – I’ll certainly be checking in with him in the morning.

As I leave, Mick calls to inform me that the coroner’s report only confirms what we already knew. Blood, hair and bone found on the ashtray all belong to Grahame. Several blows to the skull. Our murderer had to be certain, it appears. Or needed a bit of strength. There were no signs of defence. He didn’t see it coming. Time of death estimated between 6:30 and 7 pm, which makes sense with Grahame being at Indigo an hour before the group start time. Time to check in with those alibis.

*

As I fully expected, the alibis all confirm that the suspects were at home between 6:30 and 7 pm. I drive home, thinking through their responses, and spot Phoebe’s familiar purple hair. Looks like she’s on her way to Dora’s cottage, and she’s clearly upset. I slow down and find a spot to park a street ahead of her. As I get out of the Volvo, she turns a corner and I feign surprise.

“Oh! Hello, Phoebe – are you okay?”

“Oh… Detective… how are you? I- I’m fine… I was just on my way to Dora’s to do a reading. I need to figure a few things out. Just Billy’s death, plus I’m back with my ex… Craig’s ignoring me…” She looks like a lost little girl, big-eyed and overwhelmed.

“Oh no, what’s been happening?” I ask, trying to sound like a well-wishing maternal figure.

“Things aren’t going well there, to be honest. With Craig. He probably thinks I screwed him around – I was just being honest, probably too honest. I thought that would be much better! He was clearly hurt, though.

“Was he stalking you?”

“Well, not really stalking, I said that as a joke. He was just a bit persistent. I told him I wanted to be back with Aaron and that he should stop… pursuing me. I know I embarrassed him. Now that I am with Aaron again, I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, I don’t know if he’s changed at all. My instincts tell me to give him a second chance, though. I did a tarot reading yesterday and it really lined up with my instincts – key themes of forgiveness and regret – the 6 of cups and judgment! It all made sense. You know, I’m so glad I took the time to study tarot. Dora has been invaluable. I tried to get Craig involved, but no, not his thing. Aaron isn’t really into it either. He understands the basics though.”

“More than Billy, probably.”

“Oh yes… Well, he couldn’t care less about it as we all know now. And to be honest that game of his was too black and white. Tarot has many layers to it, just as people do, and I think the game objectives missed that. There was an element of interpretation to it which Dora really pushed him to do, using various cards to reach the outcome in your objective, but really, there’s so much more that could have been done!” She was getting angry now. “It would have been a sad thing if he made money from it. And here I am, getting angry, when I know you probably think I did it! Why wouldn’t you? I used the ashtray, I owned that tarot set, I arrived at the bar with someone else as an alibi…! But it wasn’t me. It wasn’t!” She stares at me defiantly.

“I didn’t say it was. There’s still plenty of leads we’re looking into, Phoebe.”

She looks down at the cracked pavement. “I better go. I’m sorry.” She gives me a nod before walking off.

“Look after yourself, Phoebe,” I call out. Murderer or not, all I want to do is feed her a warm bowl of wild boar ragu. That helps me when I’m upset. Hmm. Maybe that maternal act wasn’t completely fake after all.

It was certainly possible that Phoebe could have murdered Billy, then walked to Dora’s house, walking back to the bar with her. Her mother said she was around at home before 7pm, but wouldn’t any mother? Dora lives a fifteen-minute walk from Indigo meaning Phoebe, if it was her, would likely have killed Billy between 6:30 and 6:45, walked to Dora’s and made the journey back together at Indigo for 7:15. All fitting in with the time of death. They all knew he’d be there an hour before, Maria mentioned he’d shared this with the group. There was no guarantee he’d be alone, though – what if Jon and Craig had been there? Jon hadn’t mentioned to any of the gamers that he would be coming in late. And this is all assuming Jon and Craig weren’t involved in the crime. I’m getting closer, though. A few check-ups on a few liars tomorrow and I should have an even better idea of what’s going on.

 

© Intrigue Inn

Leave your comments below! (Avoid comments if you don’t want to read speculation.)

 

The Indigo Bar – Day 4

Phoebe’s purple hair and large floral dress cut a striking figure as she walks in. She’s come to meet me at The White Hart, a large pub near Nutbourne train station.

“Just getting a drink, you’re making me nervous,” she says with a slight laugh.

She comes back with two beers. I didn’t ask, but it’s a kind gesture and I thank her for it. A pity that the only people who buy me drinks these days are potential murder suspects.

“Am I allowed to do that? Is that weird, buying a drink for the detective who’s about to interview me because they think that maybe, possibly, I murdered a man? I expect you know I’m the only one who really used that ashtray. That’s no secret. Oh, well, I buy drinks for everyone.” She waves her hand as if to forget these concerns. “I used to bring beers and wine to the group all the time. Made some of the competitive games more fun!” She gives a cheeky smile, flirtatious even. “I was hoping we’d do a Cards Against Humanity night soon. It would be hilarious with that lot.”

Her cheery demeanour seems a little forced, but given the circumstances and her connection to the murder weapon, it’s no wonder she’s nervous.

“You’re an art student, correct?”

“That’s right. You’ve already seen some of my work, I think.”

“I have?”

“Yes. Billy’s head fell into it,” she grimaced, “I did the artwork for his prototype. The item cards, and so on. It was pretty cool to do actually, seeing as I enjoy the subject matter so much.”

“Have you always been into board games? And what about tarot?”

“Well, I enjoyed a Christmas Day game of Monopoly growing up, but until I met my sort of ex-boyfriend Aaron, I didn’t know much. He loves board games and has a big collection. We began playing Ticket to Ride religiously and then we moved on – Lost Cities, Carcassonne, Citadels, Catan of course… Well, our relationship is a bit on and off these days – on again currently – but either way I’m always keen for games. I saw a sign while having a drink at Indigo one night.  Craig told me more about it and I decided to give it a go. Craig’s such a sweetheart. There’s history there, a very brief one, but no need to get into that. Prefers computer games, you see. Not my thing,” she laughs. “Just kidding. He’s just a bit too shy for me, and I was pretty honest about that. He and Jon are great guys, though. Have you tried their craft cocktails? Oh, my word. So awesome.”

I smile at the idea she has of me sitting at Indigo, leisurely sipping on these weird cocktails as I ponder who killed Billy.

“They’re just at the experimenting stage,” she says. “Jon’s got some wonderful ideas, very unique. Those sort of drinks would help that place be a hit! I don’t know how a murder will affect that, but you know, sometimes it brings attention. Any news is good news, as they say.”

“Anyway,” She continues, barely taking a breath, “I did find Billy a bit overbearing. Smart, or at least he sounded it, but quite full on at times.  I got sucked in like the others did with that game. But I didn’t want to turn down the opportunity of contributing artwork to a big project, you see. Billy seemed certain it would be a success and I believed him for a while. After last Monday and the realisation of what he’d done, I just wanted him to go away. Let us serious gamers get on with things. Well, Dora, Albert and myself anyway. Maria just came for…” She pauses. “… To get out of the house, I suppose? Billy wasn’t really interested in board games, I understand that now. He was keen for the tarot game to work, but if not, I’m sure he had ideas up his sleeve for another project. Or using someone else’s ideas, should I say. No mention of marking me as a contributor to the game design or anything. I bet you he had no intention.” She takes a large swig of beer. “It was horrible seeing his dead body though, you know. I was caught up in conversation with Dora and then BAM you see that.”

“And you walked from your house to pick Dora up at her cottage?”

“Yes. That’s what I usually do. It’s only a few minutes away. Sometimes I walk straight to Indigo, or my mum drops me off. I like going to Dora’s, though. Such a lovely cottage.”

From the outside, perhaps.

“And what does your mum think of all this?”

“Well, what do mothers really know?” She sighs. “As much as they say they do know. I haven’t told her about the ashtray. I’m trying to keep a brave face.”

I consider my own mother, her words yesterday evening, and how little I actually tell her about why I chose my job over a family. I can empathize.

“On Mondays, we meet at Dora’s at about 7 pm and get to the bar at 7:15,” Phoebe continues. “We’re usually the first ones there so we have a drink of whatever we’ve brought with us before the others arrive. They don’t mind us using their glasses and stuff. Billy did mention the Monday before that he’d be arriving earlier than usual to set up the game. So we expected to see him there. But you know, alive.”

I’ve been waiting to see if she would mention the Seven of Swords. As she hasn’t, I flick through my phone’s photo gallery and show her the picture of the man in the top hat, running off with his swords.

“This must have been familiar to you when you found him, correct?”

Phoebe bites her lip.

“The man in this picture, after doing just the minimal amount of research into the aesthetic, can certainly be described as steampunk. I know you bought a steampunk themed tarot set yourself, so this must have been instantly recognizable when you and Dora found Billy dead?”

Phoebe nods. “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry, it did. And I know it came from my pack. I just… I’m already the only one who used that ashtray, the fact that that’s my card too… I – I just decided to not mention it. I saw that ashtray, and then I saw my card in his hands, it was all a bit much.” She looks overwhelmed.

“Could anyone else have known you own this particular set, besides Dora and the owner of Psychic Mist?”

“I don’t think Dora really noticed what I was purchasing there, she was too busy talking. She certainly didn’t say anything about the card when we found Billy, and I didn’t like to mention it. The thing is, I suppose anyone else could have seen it and taken it, Billy included. The Monday before, we went straight to Indigo after visiting the shop – a bit of a change from our normal routine, and I accidentally left the shopping bag there. I rang Indigo when I got home. Jon was still there and said he would put the bag behind the bar and I could collect it whenever. I went back two days later. I didn’t notice the Seven of Swords was missing when I glanced through the deck later on. I haven’t really used the set properly enough to notice.”

“You really have no idea who could have taken it?”

“Well, Jon moved the bag. But why would Jon take it? Anyone could have seen me leave that bag behind. Just like anyone could have seen me take and put back the ashtray when I went for a smoke. I know this all looks bad for me but why would I kill Billy? He used his charm to get me to do his artwork and I fell for it, I’ve no one to blame but myself, quite frankly.”

We finish our beers as I try and digest Phoebe’s rapid-fire chatter and work out whether I believe her story. I need to get going though so I can meet Albert in time.

*

I check my watch just as Albert walks into the little seafront cafe we arranged to meet at. He’s late. I’ve heard All I Want For Christmas twice already. He sits down, out of breath. Albert Liu is, in his own words, a truly excitable nerd, and apparently, that’s why he’s late meeting me.

“Sorry. I’m generally not punctual,” he says in an Australian accent, pushing his square-rimmed glasses up a little. “My mind doesn’t work that way. That’s the best excuse I can give you.”

He laughs. I don’t.

“I get distracted so easily by some idea, or some game or movie reference…. Something I have to look up and know the answer to immediately, you know.”

I make a mental note to avoid any pop culture references. I may be here all day, otherwise.

“That’s why I was a little late to the board game meetup on Monday. I usually am.” He gives an apologetic shrug. “On this occasion, it was a blessing. I would not have wanted to be first… poor Dora and Phoebe! Finding Billy like that and having to call the police. Good job Maria wasn’t the one to find him. Uh, well, anyway, I just walked from my flat share on Turner Square to Indigo Bar, as usual, this time running late because my roommate Coral mentioned that Temple of Doom is the best Indiana Jones film, and I couldn’t just leave after hearing such an absurd statement.”

“Naturally,” I reply. We’re certainly building up a group of alibis here. I’ll have to start checking in with them – Albert’s Coral, Jon’s roommate Phil, Craig’s mum and Phoebe and Maria’s families. I ask Albert about his job.

“The bookshop is great. It’s independent and we have an awesome fantasy section with old books that fall apart when you open them. So much better than an e-reader. I also podcast, well that’s something I do with Coral and a couple of other friends. We cover DOTA, mainly. Board games are awesome too though – I play with the rest of my friends and then there are game nights at Indigo, of course. They were pretty good, too. I love escape rooms also – I’m originally from Sydney and there are quite a few there now. I used to work at one up in London. There are a couple around here, but really London is the best place in the UK. I like to travel a lot, so I enjoy checking out escape rooms and board game cafes as I explore. That’s great additional content for the podcast as we get more international listeners.”

“Did Billy ever listen to your podcast?”

“Oh, no. I don’t believe so, anyway. I’ve heard the others say he wasn’t genuinely interested in these things, but I don’t see why you’d bother involving yourself in them if you’re not? Some of the group thought he just liked to copy ideas, that’s what they’ve been murmuring since last week. But with every board game, every escape room, every book, movie and so on, isn’t there always going to be something shared? Similar ideas? Nothing is completely original these days. You can hardly blame Billy for that. Although someone did, apparently. I have a friend, Clara Mullaney, who works at a board game publishing company. Sirius Games. She mentioned Billy was going to meet them a couple of days ago. I haven’t spoken to Clara about it yet. Would you like her details?”

“Absolutely,” I say, clicking the memo app on my phone. “Tell me a little more about how the game works, if you can? I did glance over it the evening of Billy’s death. Dora mentioned you helped with the actual rules?”

“Yeah, I did help a lot to be fair, but I was pretty proud of that! It was great to see my ideas come to life. I was also trying to come up with a name but couldn’t think of anything original. Tarot Wars, perhaps. Anyway, you probably saw there’s a narrow board to hold various card decks including tarot cards, objective cards, and item cards, along with three discard piles for each card type?”

I nod vaguely. The components confused me so I can’t really remember.

“Objective cards are selected at random at the beginning of the game. You take two cards and choose one of them. Then it’s time to begin constructing a Celtic Cross spread with the item cards that line up with your objective. You can trade and discard cards from your hand as you try to fulfil your objective, all while deducing other people’s plans and making cards they need don’t end up in their spread.  That’s the basic idea. Easy to learn!”

I nod once more. I’m still not totally clear but I’m beginning to wonder if that matters. What’s important is how each of these board gamers, bar Maria, contributed in different ways to this game, essentially putting the pieces together to make the finished product themselves. Billy was able to get away with this, at first.  His looks may have started to fade, but apparently his charm didn’t.

*

I’ve been able to set up a meeting in town with Sirius Games along Drake Street. Clara Mullaney greets me warmly once I’m inside.

“Hi, detective. Thank you for coming. I’ve arranged a chat with Dana Mulgrove, the MD. She spoke with Billy Grahame about his submission so better talking to her than me.”

Minutes later, I’m drinking terrible coffee with Dana Mulgrove. She shows me a couple of their latest approved submissions, two family card drafting games. I feign a few understanding oohs and aahs.

“We’re an indie publisher specializing in strategy games. We’re really focusing on family orientated projects right now.”

“I wouldn’t say Grahame’s idea would have worked for the family market, then? From what I’ve learned about it.”

Dana laughs. “No, his board game wasn’t going to work full stop, really. Too dull. Plus I’ve seen tarot themed games done better. Much better. Look, it wasn’t a terrible idea, just a little simple, perhaps. He did seem upset when I told him. He was quite defiant and told me that he had other business ideas up his sleeve so it didn’t matter if this didn’t take off. Doesn’t sound like someone passionate, does it? I was trying to be diplomatic but he seemed quite offended. He hadn’t really done his research, so I don’t know why he acted in that way. He’s got to learn. You can’t get something for nothing.”

Indeed. I like Dana’s style. She seems busy so I keep our conversation short. I don’t mind. I’m keen to get home and take stock of what I’ve learnt so far.

 

© Intrigue Inn

Leave your comments below! (Avoid comments if you don’t want to read speculation.)