The Private Eye

himself in a sitting position against the pillows and winced as Maggie carefully positioned the ice bags. “Thanks.” He knew he didn't sound particularly gracious.
    Maggie straightened and regarded him with a worried expression. “Do you have any pain pills?”
    “Yeah, but I don't need any. I'll be all right in a few minutes. The ice will do the trick.” He slanted her a hooded look. “I'm really doing my best to shatter your romantic notions about dashing private investigators, aren't I?”
    She smiled at that, “Well, yes, as a matter of fact. You certainly aren't anything like the ones in the novels I've read. I've never heard of one falling out of bed, for instance. But I guess I can cope with reality. Do you still think you can handle this case?”
    “With one hand tied behind my back.”
    She swept an assessing gaze down his bruised and battered frame. “How about with one hand and one foot tied behind your back?”
    “I'll manage.”
    “How?” She gave him a frankly inquiring look.
    “What do you mean, how? The usual way.”
    “I'm serious.” She sat down in the chair near the bed and carefully folded her robe around her knees. “How do you intend to approach this case?”
    Josh shrugged and tried to compose his words so that he sounded halfway professional - “Well, I think in this particular case, my initial approach will be to eliminate everyone's pet theories. I don't think any of your permanent residents is going to be satisfied with the results unless I've definitely proven them wrong first.”
    “Hmm.” Maggie was quiet for a moment. “You could be right. I take it you don't believe that any of the theories you heard explains what's been going on around here?”
    Josh cautioned himself not to say too much too soon.
    He didn't want to talk himself out of the job. “I didn't say that. I said I think they should each be checked out thoroughly. You know the old saying, 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'”
    Maggie's expression brightened. “Sherlock Holmes. The Sign of the Four, 1 think. I'm so glad you've studied the classic detectives.”
    “Uh, yeah. The classics.” Josh decided not to tell her that it had been nearly thirty years since he had read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and that he had long since forgotten the origin of the quote. The only reason he had remembered it at all was because it so frequently fit his cases.
    “I suppose you'll be using your computer to eliminate the impossible in this case?”
    “Huh? Oh, yeah. The computer.” Josh mentally crossed his fingers. He hadn't planned on using his computer for anything except working on the book.
    “We do a lot of investigative work on computers these days.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    There was nothing like having a mystery enthusiast for a client. He was going to have to watch his step. Josh sought for a way to change the subject. “You never told me your pet theory, Maggie. You implied you had one.”
    She gave him an uncertain glance. “Well, yes, I do. But you'll probably think it's pure fantasy.”
    “Try me,”
    “Well…” She hesitated. “To be perfectly frank, I've begun to wonder if someone is after Aunt Agatha's emerald brooch. I haven't been able to find it since she died, you see.”
    Lord, Josh thought in amusement. Now we've got emeralds involved in this thing. “Why would anyone go to the trouble of creating a lot of trouble here at Peregrine manor because of a brooch?”
    Maggie leaned forward intently. “It's my theory that whoever is causing the trouble is actually trying to force the manor to close down entirely so that he or she can search the premises for the brooch.”
    Josh tried to look suitably impressed. “You think it's hidden somewhere here in the house?”
    “It's possible. You see, my aunt died very suddenly from a heart attack. She had no time to give lastminute instructions. She had been in excellent health and had no reason to worry about her future. She always loved that brooch and she kept it in her jewellery box rather than in a safety deposit box. But when I went through her things after the funeral, the brooch was missing.”
    “Who was supposed to get the brooch after her death? Was it mentioned in her will?”
    “Yes. It was to come to me, along with the manor-She left very specific instructions that it was to be treated as a sort of long-term investment.”
    “An investment?” Josh frowned.
    “Yes. For