Read Online Christmas is Murder by C. S. Challinor - Free Book Online Page A

placed on the upturned black lacquer tray. Distinct patterns of arches, loops and whorls stood out clearly before him.
    “Well, I never,” Charley said.
    Mrs. Smithings bent over the tray. “Reginald, you never cease to astound me.”
    Rex asked Clifford, Anthony and Charley to step forward. “Since each of you carried at least one of the candlesticks, I’m going to start with you. All your prints should be here. Then we can identify who else’s prints are present.”
    “Whaaa—what are you doing?” Clifford asked as Rex reached for his hand and attempted to position one of his fingers on Mrs. Smithings’ stamp pad.
    “The police used this technique in the late 1880s—that’s about a decade before this manor was built. They coated a person’s fingertips with ink, like so … and deposited the prints on white paper.” Using gentle pressure, Rex rolled the old man’s inked finger on the blank inside of a Christmas card. “This way, they could match up prints with the patterns of lines found at the crime scene.”
    “I didn’t do nothin’,” Clifford protested.
    “I just want to eliminate your prints since you carried the candlesticks from the scullery.”
    “But if he committed the murder, the prints won’t prove anything,” Anthony pointed out. “Same goes for me and Charley.”
    Rex gave Clifford a damp rag to wipe off his fingers. “I realize that. What will be interesting is if we find a fourth set of prints.” He compared Clifford’s card to the samples on the tray and found matches. “I saw a box of Tiddlywinks somewhere. Could someone bring it to me?”
    Patrick handed it to him. Rex extracted yellow discs and placed them above Clifford’s prints on the tray. He repeated the inking procedure with Anthony, color-coding his prints with red discs, and Charley’s with blue. All the prints on the tray were now accounted for. No fourth set of prints existed.
    Rex sprinkled the second candlestick with talc and found no prints on it, not even Clifford’s, even though he’d carried both candlesticks into the kitchen. His prints appeared only on the first, along with Anthony’s and Charley’s, who had both taken it down to the cellar. As these constituted the only sets on the tray, it was unnecessary to fingerprint anybody else.
    The experiment availed nothing except to prove that the second candlestick tested was the murder weapon, the killer having taken care to wipe it clean.
    “And what other magic tricks do you have up your sleeve, Reginald?” Mrs. Smithings asked.
    “I’d like to check the rooms upstairs, if I may.”
    “The guest suites? And why, pray?”
    Rex intercepted a startled look from Yvette to her husband. “Ms. Greenbaum’s manuscript is missing from its file. It might lead us to the perpetrator.” Rex checked his watch, calculating the time difference with the States. “And I’d like to contact her office if possible to notify someone of her death before tomorrow, as the agency is probably closed on Christmas Eve. The manuscript had the phone number on the first page.”
    “The phones are out,” Helen reminded him.
    “With any luck they’ll be restored.”
    “Perhaps it’s in her room,” Mrs. Smithings said.
    “I looked, and in any case she was working on it just before she went in to dinner.” Rex glanced around the circle of guests and staff. “I understand what an imposition this might be, but if you would permit me to search all your rooms, it might speed up proceedings when the police finally get here.”
    “I don’t mind,” Patrick said. “It would provide a diversion. There’s not much else to do.”
    “A real-life game of Cluedo might be fun,” Charley agreed. “Was it Clifford in the kitchen with the candlestick, or—”
    “Look ’ere!” Clifford interrupted, bristling with impotent drunken ire.
    “Just kidding, mate.” Charley turned to Rex. “Since you wasn’t here when poor old Henry croaked, or in the kitchen when Miriam got