I was on vacation in my grandma’s village when the phone rang. I was worried, I wanted to spend my holiday alone and quiet, so I asked myself if I should pick up the phone which was still ringing. It was officer Crocker. His voice was shaky and he seemed terrified. Someone called to report a murder in the Patrick Mansion, one of the richest families in the UK: the heiress, Harriet Patrick, had been killed.

'Hey Paul!' - he was angry - 'Why are you answering so late?'

'You ruined my vacation.'

'A woman was murdered!', he shouted at me. 'Let’s go to investigate the crime scene.'

Once I arrived there, the police officer came to me running out of breath.

'Sir, the corpse isn’t there anymore.'

There’s no way this case could be any better, I thought. 'Let’s look for hints!', I screamed with energy. The officer and I went to the backyard. We saw some bloody footprints that must belong to the killer, we were following them and since then we knew we had entered the crime scene.

It didn't take us long and we found the body. 'Oh, how rich she was! Look how much jewellery she wears!', I said. 'I would have liked to have her money. Isn't that necklace with pearls simply magnificent? And that priceless diamond ring? And that beautiful gold bracelet?' I eyed the heiress' jewels. There was no sign of the gold bracelet my partner was talking about. 'Weird!', I said to myself and I looked at him suspiciously.

'Hmmm... I don't think she was killed here. Look at this blood! Let's see if it leads us to the real scene of the crime!' We followed the stains until they vanished. We spent several hours looking around and, at dusk, we admitted to having reached a dead end in our attempts to find out more about the criminal.

Later that evening I called Crocker: 'You know what? Let's meet tomorrow again! Today We haven't found anything, but tomorrow it's a new day!' 'I'm afraid that the crime will remain unsolved!' 'Whatever you think, I'll find the criminal and I'll arrest him!', I said firmly and ended the conversation.

I was wondering whether the officer was hiding anything and I spent all the night trying to figure out what was really happening. After surfing the Internet for hours, I came across a short article saying that the Patricks had a housekeeper. I had to speak to her at once. I called Crocker again. 'Sorry to bother you again, but I have new information on the case.'

Tell me faster, please'. 'The family has a housekeeper, I think she was with Lady Hariet that day!' 'Aaaa...' 'See you tomorrow!' 'Oh, tomorrow I can't meet you, I have a... personal matter to take care of.' And once again I found Crocker a bit weird. I knew I had to keep my eyes wide open the next day. I went to bed.

A new day! I was about to meet the housekeeper. Honestly, I felt a little nervous. I rang the doorbell. A dark-haired man in his late thirties answered the door. 'Hello! I'm here to see Mrs. Clarissa, the housekeeper of the house.' 'And you are...?' 'Detective Paul Coleman.' 'Why are you here? I 'm mourning for

my wife. Leave me alone!' 'Calm down! I'm here to help you!' I left. I texted to Crocker: "didn't speak to her, not at home. Do you have time for a quick drink?"

There was no answer, so I headed for the first bar in the neighbourhood. Rainbow, announced the letters above the entrance. I went to the bar and asked for a glass of scotch. To my surprise, not far from the bar, was standing a blonde woman looking like Harriet. 'Harriet! Harriet!' She came to me, sat on the stool next to mine and told me everything. Her nosy housekeeper used to wear her clothes and jewellery. The day when she found the evidence of her illegal borrowing she went straight to her to have a little chat about her missing pink satin