Murder Is At Hand.

Chapter 2

It was the 18th, and I was sitting calmly on my suitcase in the hall, waiting for Newham to come and pick me up. Isabel was clattering around upstairs, and I twiddled my thumbs apprehensively as I listened to her, totally out of boredom. I then turned to tapping my feet on the floor, and I drummed my fingers on the side of the suitcase in time with my tapping.

The doorbell rang, and I jumped up to answer it. Newham was standing there, looking very smart, and I instantly felt inadequate in my little green dress. It was actually a Violetta Dalton dress, one of her more simple affairs, and one I had never worn out before. I bit my lip as Newham sized the dress up.

"Not one of yours, then?" he asked playfully. I shook my head.

"I couldn't."

He sighed.

"Just as well, really. I'm sure you'll fit in just fine. We're travelling with a few of the others, so you'll have time to get to know them."

I nodded, a little apprehensively.

"I'm ready."

Newham looked around for Isabel, to tell her we were leaving, but I shushed him quickly, taking my small case and leading him out of the door.

"What's the rush?" the lieutenant asked.

I looked up at him guiltily.

"Izzy found out what I was actually doing with the clothes pegs this morning. She was not amused."

There was silence for a moment, as we shut the door and began to walk down the street to the waiting cart.

"Allie?" Newham asked again.

"Hm?" I replied innocently.

"What were you doing with the clothes pegs?"

"Well-" I began.

"Other than dropping them on my head, I mean?"

I inhaled quickly and looked away, just as a voice hailed us from the cart.

"Newt! About time! We were just debating whether to leave you behind!"

The speaker was a tall, heavily built man who looked about twenty-five. He had a large, tanned head with high cheekbones, a big nose which turned up at the end and hair which was almost white it was so blonde. It looked a bit odd, as his skin was actually darker than his hair.

"Like you would actually leave us, Twig!" Newham scoffed as we reached the cart, and the man who Newham referred to as Twig offered his hand to me to help me up.

"And who might you be, young lady?" he asked gallantly. I gave him a teasing smirk, having fallen in with their atmosphere of comeraderie almost instantly.

"Twig, you are a blockhead!" another man sighed. "This is Alianna Winter, the famous detective beauty! We've heard all of your stories, ma'am! Faithfully told to the last detail, of course! Please, take a seat!"

"You're all too kind!" I simpered, trying my hardest not to laugh, taking the seat that had been offered to me, between the second man and the side of the cart. Newham was still standing in the street.

"Are you lot all finished?" he asked cynically.

"Nearly" the second man said mischievously. "Drive on, sir!" he ordered the driver, and Newham had to jump quickly otherwise he would have been left behind. The other four men in the cart hauled him aboard, and he took the last seat opposite me, to peals of laughter from everyone.

"I should have known" he sighed. "Right, you lot, you'd better all introduce yourselves. It's going to be a long weekend of introductions for you, I'm afraid." He had directed the last statement at me.