Dear Jo,

The thrill of all the minute clues coming together, in a blend of realisation, and stupendous wonder, I find, is the best feeling. That is why I take on these fallen cases.

Did we assume foul play? Of course, this was an obvious conclusion with all the evidence on display. However, the finer detail, those missed words and objects that screamed to us that this case was a simple one.

I like your thinking, Jo, naming the case ‘Char for the Charlady;’ so apt.

It was Mr Brown’s observing Mr Samson in his van that started to ring those cerebral bells, and what you said about Miss Johnson cleaning up her spilt drink. When Mrs Samson left to sit in the van, nursing her cough, Miss Johnson made her drink, spilt it, left the cup in the kitchen and returned to deal with the mess. She used the discarded vacuum cleaner, and I believe that was when the accident occurred.

Miss Johnson used one of the tools on the extension nozzle. When she’d finished putting this away, the safety cap was still open and the machine on. Being unfamiliar with it, she bent over to switch the machine off and her pearl necklace, dangling from her neck, was sucked into the nozzle. This left a 27mm ring mark on her neck at it sucked away, pulling on the pearls and asphyxiating her.

The machine was found turned off, so maybe she managed to hit the button as she gasped for air, or the plug was pulled out of the socket as she struggled. She fell backwards through the door, coursing it to shut, and she landed on the floor where she was found by Miss Wright.

Mr Samson washed up in the kitchen, assuming his wife hadn’t done so, collected her vacuum cleaner and left, job done.

So, there we have it. Miss Johnson died because she had her habitual cup of char. She was unfamiliar with the machine and she did not heed the health and safety rules: never do the cleaning in your best pearls, and never trust a charlady’s cleaner.

Thanks again, Jo. The next case will be in the post very soon.

Yours

Swan

Dear Jo,

The Samson’s have really got me thinking. It’s that day that things changed; their routine was displaced somewhat. It wasn’t just the fact that Mrs Samson was unwell either. There seemed to be some confusion in the kitchen as to what was cleaned and put away. It does appear that Miss Johnson had her morning drink after all, if Mr Samson washed her mug along with his wife’s glass.

There was a spillage identified in their cleaning records, wasn’t there? It was assumed to be water from the glass, when Mrs Samson coughed herself blue. This was outside Miss Johnson’s office. Very telling, don’t you think?

Another interesting point about Mr Brown noticing Mr Samson loading the van, because he may have witnessed the disposal of some evidence. I suppose that what he saw fall on to the gravelled drive, when he emptied the vacuum waste into the bag, could’ve been a detached pearl from Miss Johnson’s necklace. Alas, it has not been found.

I’ve looked at the photographs of the office, particularly the door, because I think there’s an important clue in the bottom edge. It’s worn on the inside, suggesting that the door wedge was placed there, so that it would need to be pushed outward to disengage it. If that was the opposite case, when the door shut, the wedge would have ended up in the corridor. 

What do we know? She had her drink. Maybe she spilt it outside her office. Could the wedge have loosened and shut on her as she walked into her room, causing her to spill the drink? And then there’s the necklace. We can’t forget that, can we?

Yours

Swan

Dear Jo,

After some analysis of your findings, it seems that Monday was far from just an ordinary day.

So, we have Mr Brown working from 8pm-8am, seven nights a week on rotational shifts. He’s worked with the same firm for fifteen years and at this site for five years, so was familiar with everything that went on at Knight’s Quarter. I would say that whatever he has to say, however insignificant, holds the clue to this case.

The cameras in his office showed views of the car park, entrance to individual suites, but not their interior. Mr Brown saw her car parked, and a woman he identified as our subject.

The Samson’s seem oblivious to Miss Johnson’s life passing away whilst they worked, cleaning the office suite and possibly the evidence away. Again, the clues are all there, aren’t they? Miss Johnson arrived in the midst of their routine, so her room must have been attended to. They claim to have not seen her or any sign of her necklace.

The layout of the suite is interesting; it being like a donut ring. The inner ring was the hub; the workshop aspect of the company, with an open plan reception area at the entrance. Moving clockwise from there was the kitchen, Miss Johnson’s office, storeroom, toilets, meeting room, and Miss Wright’s office.

Mrs Samson started cleaning clockwise and her husband anticlockwise meeting in the hub. They used one vacuum cleaner each and cleaned their own half of the room. It’s all ritual. What happened? What was out of place?

Mrs Samson doesn’t remember anything different in the kitchen when she cleaned it, just mugs left to soak in the sink from the previous day. Following fits of uncontrollable coughing, she returned to get a glass of water. Mr Samson returned to the kitchen and washed it along with a mug. He assumed she hadn’t cleaned up the kitchen. Poor Mrs Samson was struggling outside with her coughing so left her husband to finish putting the cleaning gear away in their van.

There’s something hidden in front of our eyes. Do you see it?

Yours

Swan

Dear Jo,

Sorry for the delay. I was just collecting some information together on our next case. I’ll let you read through it and give you the privilege of naming this one.

This case involved a woman called Miss Johnson who ran a soft furnishings design company, with her business partner, Miss Wright. Miss Wright found her laid on her back, fully clothed in her office. She stated nothing seemed to be missing.

Miss Johnson died from asphyxiation but a murder weapon has not been found. There is neither motive nor suspect for this case. But we shall prevail where the traditional investigation has failed.

The office suite is situated in the Knight’s Quarter. Five people had access to the office suite: Miss Johnson, Miss Wright, Mr and Mrs Samson, who were contracted to clean before office hours and Mr Brown, the security guard for Knight’s Quarter.

The only unusual facts, according to Miss Wright, are some lapses in her habits. She always wore a string of pearls on a Monday (the day she died) and these were missing; when she entered her office, she always wedged the door open and made a cup of tea. The door was closed and no signs of a drink prepared.

The coroner stated she was strangled and that no other markings were found on her body apart from a strange, red circular mark on her neck, approximately 27cm in diameter.

I would like you to scrutinise the newspaper and internet articles surrounding this case as I look into some background information of Miss Johnson and some of her close associates.

I very much look forward to hearing from you shortly.

Yours

Swan

Dear Jo,

You are correct in thinking that Mrs Partridge did not merely slip and fall and thus receive some inexplicable blow to the eye.

All in all, your deductions were correct. Well done. I will, however, tell you exactly what happened, according to my assessment and those of the coroner.

Mrs Partridge was a fit and healthy woman of forty. On her return home, it was mid-afternoon, just starting to get dark and she used the back door as was usual. Maybe struggled with key in the lock with one hand so threw/dropped her rucksack up against door. It’s not hard to imagine her being a little frustrated, being tired and cold, wanting to get in the house. Eventually the lock became free.

She heard something, though, above her and looked up; maybe water dripped on her glasses so she removed them and looked up again as the noise sounded out. Little did she know that the weight of the bag would cause the already melting, four foot icicle to dislodge from the guttering. Indeed, it fell and penetrated her left eye socket, causing a seizure, bleeding and death. As she fell, her glasses were discarded and the icicle spear broke off as she made contact with ground, leaving a shard imbedded in the cavity. As she lay undiscovered, the frozen shrapnel melted all but a trace of the weapon that drained and dripped off her face and froze on the path.

An unfortunate accident indeed.

To answer some of your questions I have worked on many strange cases of a similar theme, not all shrouded in death, might I add. I’m afraid to admit I do find the morbid rather exciting though. You say that you are more than happy to work with me so I feel that now the preliminaries are out of the way, we should begin on a new case.

Yours

Swan

Dear Jo,

Great, you’re still interested.

There’s just the matter of a little test. Did I not mention that? It’s not a trick. I need to check out all my recruits’ abilities. You may think you’re up to the job but this is whole mind thinking; using logic and creativity.

Mrs Partridge left her house one January morning at 7 o’clock. There’d been a recent spell of snow and lower than usual cold temperatures of minus9. She left the house, dressed appropriately for the cold weather. She wore duck down boiler jacket, over layered clothing, thick woollen socks in Magnum boots, fleece glove liners under ski gloves and a woollen hat. She had a small rucksack stuffed with her personal items.

When she saw the black ice on the slight incline, she decided to leave her car where it was parked, outside her house, and walked the 2miles to work. The weather had improved, as predicted, and though still cold, midges were seen hovering over shrubbery.

For Mrs Partridge, the day was uneventful until she reached home. She was found laid on her back, on the paving, round the back of her house. Unfortunately, she wasn’t discovered till the next day when the postman dropped off a parcel. She was dead.

She’d received a penetrating orbital trauma from a foreign body resulting in temporal lobe seizure, arterial trauma and brain ischaemia. Apart from some bruising, from her fall and seizures, there were no other injuries.

Her rucksack was against the unlocked, closed door where the key was in situ. She wore glasses but these were found by the door.

There was slight ground frost overnight and no ice formed apart from a small area near her head.

It was concluded that Mrs Partridge’s death was an accident. The foreign body, which would have been heavy, with a sharp point and smooth edges, was never found.

Ponder if you will, the Case of the Fallen Bird, (as I like to call it). What conclusions do you make of this case?

Yours

Swan

Dear Jo,

I most sincerely apologise for my error. It is one that went unnoticed by you but I assumed you were male. How could I have made such a boob, I mean your name is female, Jo, or Josephine as you have informed me, and not Joe as I thought.

Thank you for your quick response. You tell me you’re intrigued by my name so I will tell you.

Family tradition goes that an ancestor, on my mother’s side, was a Native American. She wanted to name her first born in ‘the way of her ancestors;’ after the first thing she saw after my birth, something like that. I like to think she was at home, by the lake, when I was placed in her arms, and she glanced briefly at a wedge of swans that had taken flight. Hmm. Nice, but not the truth.

I was born a week early. It was a surprise to Mother but not to those around who thought my birth, in the kitchen, no shock at all. She was always fidgeting; she couldn’t sit still. Mother had been preparing the Sunday roast at the time and true to her word, she turned to look, and what she saw was a large, yellow, box of matches on the kitchen table. The makers? Swan.

As you can see, I’m far from conventional, and nor shall I be, unless called to be so. My ways may be strange but they are effect.

You are correct in thinking that meeting face to face will only be in extreme circumstances. Do not destroy or file our letters, but rather keep them in bundles in the PO Box; they are pieces of evidence, our security. Yes, I do require that you acknowledge an unwritten contract of trust, that you fulfil our mutual contribution to the mission, no matter how long it may take. It is a commitment, but one that’s worthwhile.

Yours

Swan

Dear Eddie,

Thanks for your reply. I’m glad you’re up for this, though I am a little disappointed that you can’t assist immediately. I take it, the contact you mentioned is reliable. Of course he is. I trust you. It’s just, I thought we would work together from the offset. No worries. Honestly, I can’t wait till you’re on board with this.

I shall write to Jo Brady and fill him in with some details; see what he thinks and ensure he’s committed.

I’ll keep you posted with details of my new mission.

Yours

Swan 

Dear Eddie,

Surprised to hear from me?

I know it’s been a year but things have been pretty wild. Involving you in all this is a big ask, but I can’t think of anyone I can trust more with the things I have discovered.

Do you need persuading? What if I said, ‘Aunt Mable’s hatpin,’ would that draw you in?

Reply to me at the PO Box number and then I’ll fill you in with the details. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Yours

Swan