Chapter 1: The Locked Study

The body of Reginald Holt was discovered at precisely seven minutes past midnight by his butler, who had been bringing the customary glass of warm brandy that Holt demanded before bed. The study door was locked from the inside with a deadbolt that could only be turned by hand. The windows were sealed shut and painted over, a precaution Holt had insisted upon years ago after a burglary attempt that may or may not have actually occurred. The room had one entrance, and it was bolted. Holt sat in his leather armchair facing the cold fireplace, dressed in his dinner jacket, his expression frozen in what the coroner would later describe as profound surprise. In his right hand he clutched five playing cards: two aces and two eights, all black suits, and the jack of diamonds. The dead man's hand, the same cards legend says Wild Bill Hickok held when he was shot in eighteen seventy-six, with one significant addition. Retired detective Nora Caffrey arrived forty minutes after the local police, summoned by a phone call from the victim's daughter that had been brief and frantic. Nora had investigated Holt once, years ago, for insurance fraud. She had found him guilty but unprovable, a distinction that still irritated her. 'Dinner party tonight,' the butler informed her. 'Six guests, all departed by eleven. Mr. Holt retired to his study at half past and bolted the door as was his habit.' 'And the cards?' 'Mr. Holt always kept a deck in his desk drawer. He was a man who loved games.' Nora photographed the scene methodically. The study was immaculate except for a faint smell she could not identify, something chemical beneath the lingering scent of cigar smoke. She examined the deadbolt and found no scratches or signs of tampering. However the killer had managed this, they had done it without entering the room, or they had found a way out that left no trace.