The Incident Concerning The Alsatian Dog.

Chapter 1

"No! Absolutely not! End of discussion!"

Isabel folded her arms firmly and looked away. I changed tack for the fifth time that morning.

"It'll be good to get away from Paddington, Izzy. You're due leave very soon from the restaurant. It'll be fun!"

"It will not be fun!" Isabel pointed out sternly. "A week in a house on a small island with a host of random theatrical strangers? No!"

"They'll be in character, Izzy. Just like normal people! And then on top of that, there'll be a murder to solve!"

"And that is the second reason why we're not going!" Isabel sighed. "You'll have it solved in ten seconds flat and ruin it for the rest of us!"

"I've already promised Hettie I won't give any help unless you ask for it!" I groaned. "That was the condition for her allowing us to come in the first place!"

Isabel paused, as if trying to think of another reason why we shouldn't go. Hettie and her husband had invited us, Newham and Dr. Scott down with them for a murder mystery weekend on the Isle of Wight. I had been all for it, as had the two men, but as I was curently finding out, Isabel was slightly more difficult to persuade.

"It will be good fun!" I repeated. Isabel gave me a long-suffering look.

"No."

"Why?" I asked, despairing.

"Haven't I just made it clear to you?" Isabel sighed. "One. The Isle of Wight is miles away from anywhere. Two. It's an island, funnily enough, and islands mean boats, and boats mean my breakfast comes back for an encore. Three. I do not want to spend any amounts of time in a house with a group of theatre people, whether they're in character or not, I don't care. Four. You will undoubtedly spoil the whole thing with that gigantic puzzle-solving brain of yours, and then we really will just be stuck on an island with a bunch of theatre people! So no. Tell your friend Hettie we're not going!"

I sighed, and changed tack again.

"I'm going. And Newham's going. And Dr. Scott's going. And Hettie was kind enough to invite us, so we can't not go! Please, Izzy. I do want to see Hettie again. You two will get along so well, I just know it. Percy too. You're like two peas in a pod. And then there's Newham, and Dr. Scott, and I know you all get along well already, and it will be awful if you don't come. We'll miss you terribly."

Isabel shuffled her position, still with her back to me. She was now listening. I decided now was the time to play my best card.

"You know the sorts of stuff I'll get up to" I told her. "What happens if something goes wrong? You can't trust Newham to look after me anymore, so what will you do?"

This was actually a very clever tactic. Ever since Newham had allowed me to take on a whole murder case on my own, Isabel had become decidedly more skeptical about his ability to 'keep me out of trouble'. She insisted I had messed with his head, and persuaded him that I wasn't completely mad like she knew I was. There was a long pause, after which Isabel sighed heavily, and turned to look at me very begrudgingly.

"What do I need to pack?" she asked reluctantly. "Other than seasickness pills, obviously. I can't believe you've talked me into going on a boat."

"Clothes for the week" I told her. "Warm coats for travelling, and some sturdy boots. Apparently it's a bit rocky coming off the jetty on the island."

Isabel looked decidedly horrified at the thought.

"You're not going to let me back out of this now, are you?" she asked. I shook my head.

"Not unless you drop down dead, I'm afraid."

"Right now, dead is sounding agreeable" Isabel commented cynically, before sighing. "I'll have to get packing. Write to Hettie, and tell her we'll come. Quickly, before I decapitate you."

I laughed, before running away and up the stairs in case Isabel found something she could actually decapitate me with. It would be very good to see Hettie again. I had only ever written to her since the Army get-together, and I was missing her endless enthusiasm and our constant verbal sparring. I sat down at my desk and found a pen and paper, before beginning to write a reply to the letter I had received that morning. It didn't take me too long, and when I was done, I left it on the table to post later and sat down with...well, you can probably guess. It was one that Hettie had already read, but I hadn't, so naturally she was very excited when she found out I was reading it for the first time. It was called A Process Of Elimination, and I hadn't actually started it. I had been saving it for as long as I possibly could, since Hettie had assured me it was one of the best. Not quite as good as Mystery Man, she said, but still good. I settled myself on my bed and opened the book.

So far on that particular Sunday, life in William's little flat had been relatively bogstandard. He had slept late, as he enjoyed doing on a Sunday, eaten a lazy breakfast at about half past eleven, shouted at the paper boy once again for throwing the paper at the constantly open kitchen window, and enjoyed a leisurely walk along the riverside as he went to collect a new paper, since the original had, once again, landed in the sink. He was now sitting comfortably in his armchair, paper on lap and coffee in hand, reading a facinating article on wildlife.

Tap tap tappity tap.

William heard the familiar click of his front door being unlocked, and Sedgefield's trademark 'secretive' knock. Without moving from his chair, he called behind him into the hall.

"Sedgefield, if you've got any knives, spears, fishing nets, bombs, dead animals, swords, pistols, or visitors with you, please leave them in the hall."

Sedgefield plodded in, sitting down with a sigh on William's other armchair. William looked briefly up from his newspaper and did a double take.

"Right, I'm adding blood-soaked harpoons to that list as well, Sedgefield, and by the way, the shower is in the back room. I suggest you use it now, before I throw you out!" he complained. Sedgefield pouted like a small child.

"Fine. You'll have to wash your cushions, though."

William looked up and sighed. The cushions, the upholstery and most of the chair Sedgefield had just vacated were now decidedly more red than they had been fifteen seconds ago.

"Allie?"

I looked up.

"What?" I yelled.

"Where did your walking boots end up?" Isabel hollered. "I can't find them!"

"Goodness knows!" I yelled back. "Hang on, I'll be right down!"

Leaving A Process Of Elimination on the bed, I hurried downstairs to help Isabel. I was fortunate to have persuaded her to come on this trip, and was not about to push my luck.