The Claresby Collection: Twelve Mysteries Read Online Free PDF Page A

breakin, but I haven’t checked all the rooms.”

    “You don’t need to,” muttered Laura under her breath. “If you think about it, we have five people in this house all with a possible motive!”

    “You can’t really think that. Why would any of your friends take it?”

    “Well, Simon and the Hawkes’ are pretty desperate for money – we saw that last night. And Samantha – well, she might consider destroying it as a matter of principle.”

    “What about Floyd, there’s nothing suspicious about him.”

    “Rupert, everything about Floyd is suspicious; although, I agree, I can’t immediately see a motive for him to steal it.”

    “Well, what about me? Do you suspect me? After all, I’ve got less money than either Simon or Conran and Delilah.”

    “Don’t be silly,” snapped Laura. “I’d trust you with my life.”

    Before Rupert could respond to this touching expression of faith, the two other ladies came into the Hall.
     
    “What’s the matter?” asked Samantha.

    “The toad has gone,” replied Laura, slightly sulkily.
     
    “Oh, good; it was vile,” retorted Samantha, and went to have her breakfast.

    Laura and Rupert exchanged glances.

    Delilah expressed more concern. “Oh, my God: gone! It was worth a fortune. I hope you are insured. Have you called the police?”

    The look on Laura’s face instantly told Rupert that she had not got around to arranging any form of appropriate insurance.
     
    “What about calling the police?” he urged.

    “Not yet,” she said. “Let’s ask everyone if they saw or heard anything. After all, Floyd was in the room the entire time. He must have seen something.”

    “I wouldn’t bank on it,” commented Rupert, looking at the still comatose figure of the artist.

    By then, Simon, Conran and Samantha had joined them, all clutching bacon sandwiches and, in the case of the men, expressing surprise and dismay. At some point Floyd was stirred into a bleary consciousness and plied with coffee. His immediate response on hearing the news was to assure them that he had witnessed no intruders in the night, whilst admitting that someone could have probably stolen the building from about him and the clothes from his body and he would not have been aware of the fact.

    “To be absolutely honest, I’m not feeling at all well this morning,” groaned Floyd, prising himself out of the chair and wincing. “I don’t wish to complain, Laura, but I’m wondering if there wasn’t something a little bit amiss with that whisky.”

    “There was nothing wrong with the quality of the whisky,” Laura responded with mild indignation. “It was the quantity in which you imbibed it that was the problem.”

    “You may well be right; but my insides are feeling awfully queer.” Indeed, Floyd looked both pale and sweaty with a greyish skin colour.

    “Well, leaving Floyd’s insides out of it, perhaps we should all make a search of the house, just in case the toad was simply misplaced or to see if there are any signs of a break in. Whatever one’s artistic attitude to the object, it was valuable and we are going to have to call the police if we can’t sort this out ourselves,” insisted Rupert.
     
    Everyone acquiesced to this plan and they all wandered off in different directions to search. Laura herself was rather dispirited; something told her that the “Pickled Toad with Diamonds” had disappeared for good and she was equally sure that, when the matter got out, it would be received with as much hilarity as sympathy. The fact that she had failed to insure the beastly thing didn’t help.

    Sometime later the group reconvened, shrugging their shoulders and muttering about the skills of professional burglars. It was at this point that Floyd re-emerged, looking a slightly better colour but somewhat sheepish.
     
    “I think I may be able to help you solve your mystery,” he began, delicately.

    “Do you remember seeing or hearing anything last night?” asked