"Hello, welcome to Emderlade!" The taxi man greeted me as I shoved my luggage in the boot. "My name is Eric, I'm the taxi guy around here."

Like I hadn't already figured that out. But I couldn't let my bitchiness get in the way of making contacts here in Emderlade - it could prove useful. "I'm Amber," I returned cheerily. "I've come to stay here for a little while on business."

"That's great!" He continued enthusiastically as I climbed into the passenger seat, safely securing my belt. What? I took plausible car accidents seriously! Just because I was a detective didn't mean I'd no regard for personal safety. "There's a couple of lovely bed and breakfast places around here, family run of course. Couples simply love coming up to our village on cosy little weekend retreats and getting back in touch with the nature surrounding us, so they're very busy, but I'm sure I could help you find a room if you're looking!"

I eyed him curiously, but his offer seemed genuine. His smile was admittedly irritating, but his niceness towards a complete stranger was sort of heartwarming. Oh dear lord, I'm growing soft. "Thank you for the offer, but actually I'm staying at McMahon Mansion."

His smile slipped - it was only for a fraction of a second, but I still took a careful note of it. I was interested to see what the villagers thought of Kristen McMahon, and by the looks of things, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. "What's wrong?" I questioned innocently. "Is McMahon Mansion not very nice?" Now I sounded like a three year old, but hopefully it would make me seem like less of a detective. People tended to be more open with you if they didn't realise you were grooming them for information.

"It uses to be a lovely place," he began, starting the journey with a screech of the tyres. "The gardens there were very majestic, green lawns, big fountains, all that sort of thing. It's a little like something from Downton Abbey - Mr McMahon had a lot of servants, just like something from the early twentieth century." I noted the respectful way in which he addressed the deceased owner. "Everyone in the village was related to someone who worked there. The pay was good, the accommodation excellent, it was all like one big family and it wasn't too far from home. He might not have been there most of the time, but he generally seemed like a good man to work for, even if he wasn't the best father."

"And so?" I prompted. "What exactly happened?"

"Sadly, he died." He lifted one hand from the steering wheel to make the sign of the cross. "His daughter, Kristen McMahon, is the sole owner of the house, and she only employs a few people. She fired all the original servants and brought in a new, fresh, younger batch. It's fallen into disrepair, with so few people to tend to it. Apparently there are only a couple of rooms up to living standards. Still, she's a socialite, she's not there very much. I hope you don't mind me asking, but what business would bring you to her? In all the time she's lived there by herself I can't recall her ever inviting guests."

"It's not exactly my decision to be here," I admitted. "It's not my usual form of business, but Kristen gets what she wants, and you know how it is with bosses. I didn't have much of a choice."

He seemed to accept my sidestep around his question. "That's what's so great about running my own taxi company. I'm my own boss!" He smiled, returning to his cheery outward atmosphere. I kept up with his flow of small talk as we drove the rocky path up to the mansion, which loomed menacingly over the entire village, which seemed rather small so high up. Although his enthusiasm didn't waver, there was an undeniable shift in tension in the car, making me feel a little uncomfortable. Everything about this case was making me feel uncomfortable.

"Here we are," he announced as the cab shuddered to a stop outside the towering front gates. "Do you need any help with your luggage?"

"No thank you," I replied, digging into my purse and pressing a couple of notes into his hand, including a generous tip - I might need to interact with him and the village again soon, and I found that money generally loosened the tongue. Flashing him a quick smile, I opened the door and retrieved my luggage from the boot before waving him off as he bumped his way back down the hill.

I was now faced with the rather daunting task of getting inside. The gates were too high to safely climb, there wasn't enough room at the bottom to wriggle through and regretfully I'd been eating too many delicious mini cheesecakes (someone should really start labelling their stuff in the department's fridge) to squeeze through the close set iron wrought bars. I was going to have to take the easy route in and press the buzzer, which might seem like the best option for most people, but I'd been really hoping to have a little nosy around the grounds for any viable points of breaking in before anyone knew I'd arrived. I wanted to be able to safely rule out an outsider stealing the jewellery before moving on to study any evidence that it was an inside job. Sighing, I rang the buzzer.

A smooth male voice answered. "Please state your name and business."

Could he be any more robotic? "I'm Amber Shields, here on private business with Kristen McMahon."

There was a short pause before the reply. "We have been expecting you. Do you not have a partner, Brooke Fielding?"

"I do." I was a big believer in not conveying any more information than absolutely necessary; life motto number three.

"Will she be accompanying you?" There was the faintest hint of annoyance in his tone - I awarded myself a mental high five before realising I was acting like a teenager again, something that was slightly sad.

"She'll be arriving tomorrow, it's just little old me for now."

"Your entry has been granted." The voice caught off abruptly, and I scoffed. Who the hell talked like that? Maybe I had landed in a technology-laden version of Downton Abbey.

The gates creaked open painfully slowly. Being an impatient person, as soon as I had determined it a suitable distance I squeezed in through the narrow opening, dragging along my suitcase behind me. I stumbled through to the other side, finding myself on a driveway up to the house that was noticeably paved smoother than the one outside. I glanced quickly around the grounds, surveying any points of entry. I couldn't see all the grounds, but everything was enclosed in a near invisible barbed wire more modern than the gates in front, practically reeking of electricity. I bet any intruder who tried to scale it would end up electrocuted. The grass was at ankle height, the soil muddy, any remaining flowers either beginning to wilt or already dead. It didn't seem possible for a tunnel to be dug underneath, but I'd have a look around later just to double check. The gates at the front weren't moveable either unless someone from the inside let you through. Obviously, I'd have to have a chat with Kristen about security later.

As I approached the front door, the cabman's earlier comments about the state of the house hit home. The windrows were positively filthy, so encased in a layer of dust and perspiration and bird shit that I doubted any of them could be seen out of. One pair was noticeably clean, just to my left, making me wonder if they belonged to a room Kristen often occupied. The navy paint of the front door was peeling, and the heavy gold knocker tarnished. I even think I saw a spider spin dreamily across a window corner out of the edge of my eye. With a heavy heart, I pounded the door three times.

It was swung open halfway through my annoyed third knock. I instantly identified the man on the other side as Ben, the butler. He was wearing a uniformly suit with ridiculous white gloves and a pristine snowy white cloth draped expertly over one arm. "Welcome to McMahon Mansion Miss Shields," he greeted me in the same voice of the buzzer, accompanying his words with a small bow.

"Cut the crap," I said disgustedly as I stepped in. "My name's Amber, I was given it for a reason so use it. And I don't want to see any bows anywhere near me, got it? I guarantee by the time I'm finished here you're probably going to hate me, so don't act like I'm some angel sent from heaven. I hate people faking nicety towards me, I know I'm a bitch so you don't need to act like I'm not."

The corner of his lips twitched. "As you wish. May I show you to your room?"

"I would prefer if you show me straight to Kristen McMahon."

"Miss McMahon is busy right now." He said firmly. "You'll be shown to your room and left to settle before dinner."

I stepped a little closer towards him. "Listen here," I said with a dangerous glint in my eye. "I didn't come here just to be shown to my room. I don't know how much Kristen has told you, but I'm a detective, and if you didn't already know you were going to figure it out soon enough. I'll either speak directly to 'Miss McMahon' or get on with an inspection of the house and grounds, but I'm not sitting about waiting on someone who has, frankly, no more important work to be getting on with than this. From this point on, Kristen is never too busy to see me."

He stepped back, his face flushed red (I think he needs some water to cope with that burn). "So the rumours are true." He said softly, shooting daggers at me through his eyes. "You really are a bitch."

I was mostly engrossed in mentally congratulating myself for breaking through his polite shell, but I managed to summon enough concentration to rearrange my facial features into a smirk. "No shit Sherlock. Now, what's it gonna be?"

He glared at me. "She's upstairs. Seeing as you're such a great detective, why don't you find her yourself?" He stalked out of the room, leaving me with an extreme sense of satisfaction at having broken him. One down, three to go.

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I hope you liked the chapter! This might be the last one for a few weeks, because I'm determined to finish my other novel Sixth Street by the end of the year and I have ten more chapters to write, so I kind of need to concentrate on that. Halloween break is coming up pretty soon though, so hopefully I can get lots done over it so I can go back to writing this again. BTW, I know probably none of you care, but I'm up to date with The Good Place on Netflix and it is such an amazing show I can't even begin to explain how much I love it! The end of series one just left me sitting there like 😱 I'm really enjoyed writing this so far, it just fills me with glee when I think about how much is to come. It's moving a little slowly at the minute, but in a couple of chapters I think all the introductory stuff will be over and the real drama can start. Thank you for reading, and please comment or vote if you enjoyed it!