ELISA HARTWOOD AND THE POISONED LORD ✔

Message from the author: This a juicy little mystery short story which is inspired by the upcoming TV series event DIG which is due to hit screens on March 5th 2015! It premiers on USA Network on March 9 at 10/9C. You can read the amazing DIG: The Official Prequel at - http://www.wattpad.com/story/19820716-dig-the-official-prequel and you can follow DIG who are right here on Wattpad at @DIGonUSA. Hope you enjoy! Reads, comments, likes appreciated as always. G.S. xx

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Eliza Hartwood was near the end of a really good book, just about to find out what it had all meant, when she got a call from Superintendent White.

'There's been an incident,' he said, his gruff voice bellowing down the phone. 'A big one. Big people involved. Meet at the usual place, we're flying you out to Venice. Right now.'

Big incident? Big people? Elisa thought. Are they as big as the ending she was about to read in the leather-bound book clasped in her hand? She couldn't help but smile as she imagined the explosion from Superintendent White if she had said that out loud. Besides, there was actually a clear 99.9% chance she already knew exactly what the ending of that book would be.

'Detective Hartwood?' he boomed. 'Are you there?'

She jumped up from the sofa sending her furball ginger cat Terry flying.

'Yes.'

'Get there now. This is a matter of national security.'

The phone line went dead. Without another thought she reached for her navy blue blazer and wriggled her arms into it until it sat neatly over her buttoned up shirt. She slipped her feet into a pair of tan brogue shoes, brushed down her skinny trousers and dashed to the mirror to run her hands through her long ash-blonde hair and push up her glasses so they sat higher on her nose.

She grabbed the brown 'emergency satchel' that always sat ready for such moments as these and lay down the book carefully on the table before throwing the strap of her satchel over her shoulder.

She scribbled a note for her Mum who was by now at least used to (if not still terrified by) such notes. She bid farewell to Terry who sat rooted to the carpet staring at her through bewildered eyes. She rushed straight out of the front door on to the street where she lived in Cambridge, England.

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It had taken a few hours to arrive at the large, elaborate house that sat at the side of the Grand Canal in Venice. The sky was raven black by the time they arrived. The streets were filled with throngs of people wearing masks and all sorts of fine clothes. It was 'Carnivale', that time of the year when Venice became one huge masquerade ball. The air had a sweet, burnt smell, music floated in from the narrow alleyways and the water of the canals rippled and shimmered under the moonlight.

The two burly policemen wearing normal clothes sent by Superintendent White to accompany Elisa evidently found it impossible to hide their disbelief and horror when she first hopped on to the private jet. As they instinctively reached for their weapons with looks of alarm on their faces she knew she would have to explain things pretty quickly.

'But you're so young,' said one of them, named Sergeant Cray.

'And small,' said the other one, named Sergeant Dawson.

She sighed. She got this sort of thing all the time. Superintendent White warned her firmly back when he recruited her that being the youngest detective on the force was never going to be easy. But still.

'Guys, I'm 16. And I'm good. I wouldn't have been put on this case if I weren't now would I?'

She then had to go through the usual procedure of showing her ID and her police badge and getting them to verify it all with Superintendent White (whose voice she could hear blasting down the phone telling them to just get on with the damn investigation).

Once they had arrived in Venice they had zipped along to the house in a speedboat that was driven by a local Italian policeman who also seemed incapable of hiding his shock upon seeing her.

All she had found out about 'the incident' so far from her companions is that a murder had been committed of a British citizen and that someone extremely important was involved. Once the Sergeants were quite sure she was who she said she was, which took quite a bit of time, they had handed her a document from the Italian government giving her full jurisdiction to investigate the crime, working alongside the local police. It had been signed by the police Commissioners of both the United Kingdom and Italy.

As they stepped through the towering front door of the grand Venetian house it felt to Elisa as though she could almost smell the wealth, as though it literally dripped from the ceiling of the hallway they walked into, as though they had entered some stately, gilded museum full of European masterpieces.

They were immediately surrounded by a huddle of police who were letting out a constant murmur of Italian. They were then shuffled along to what looked like a royal kind of dining room.

Holding on to a table so long it was absurd, surrounded by a bulging swarm of uniformed men stood the Venetian Chief of Police Generale Rafellli. His dark head snapped towards them. His initial reaction upon laying his eyes upon her was to roll back his head and let out a humorless and grating laugh that went on a bit too long.

'So you are Detective Hartwood?' he said eventually. 'Seen as you are the only female I can see?'

'I am she.'

At least he speaks English, she thought. She scanned the room. Great gold drapes hung from the rows of tall windows. Venice glittered behind. No suspects present. No body. She was impatient to begin.

'Here in my country we do not have children in the police. Only adults.'

'Right, great,' she said. 'I need to see the murder scene now.'

Generale Rafelli rasied his black caterpillar eyebrows as though she had just made the most insane statement in the history of the world. The policemen around him (who were all staring at her) let out sniggers. She glanced at her two British companions who stood stiffly either side of her. One of them handed her the letter from the Italian government.

'This is signed by both countries. It gives me unlimited rights to investigate this scene and resolve this case.'

'Yes, yes,' he replied. 'I have my own copy but I didn't know they were going to send a little girl. Considering who is in this building right now and what he means to your country, I thought a little more effort would have been put in.'

The Italian police shuffled, some raised their eyebrows, some laughed. The two Sergeants remained still and staring. She pushed out her chin and stepped towards him, sensing every eye upon her. She put the full force of her intention into her words.

'Under the European International Crimes Act of 1999 it states that any governments who decide upon co-operation will do so under Clause 21.32. It also says that anyone proven to violate that agreement will be subject to criminal charges in a European International Court of Law. Besides, statistically, based upon speed and accuracy of results – I am the best living detective in the UK at this time.'

General Rafelli shook his head and gritted his teeth. He tried an empty laugh again but it petered out under her fixed glare.

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