Although she had planned to have a relaxing weekend (which she had been denied for a long time), Detective Inspector Caroline Shields cancelled all of her plans, left her flat and rushed to the airport with her suitcase.

“Caroline!” a familiar voice called.

“Richard,” she answered as she made her way towards him through the crowds, “You sounded terrified on the telephone, whatever is the matter with you?”

“I have had several ‘accidents’ recently. They weren’t just accidents though, they were all tampered with in some way. Only yesterday, a rug was placed at the top of the stairs. It has always been at the bottom of the stairs, in the hallway. I am convinced that someone is trying to kill me Caroline. I need your help,”

“Are you sure that these incidents happened on purpose? You know, coincidences do happen,”

“Not in my house they don’t. I am very serious Caroline. Anyway, tonight I am having a gathering at home, both of my daughters are coming over to stay for the weekend. There will be a few old friends of mine, but they will leave at midnight at the latest.

Caroline, as they walked to Richard’s private helicopter, couldn’t help noticing how much Richard had aged since they had last met. His whole body was a lot thinner than he had been. Grey hairs had spread throughout his once coal-black hair. His cheekbones stood out even more than they had before. Richard’s complexion was a grey-white colour. Caroline started to worry but thought it would be best to leave him to look after himself, he had a stubborn nature.

Richard, in his prime, was a successful property developer. At one point, he had owned thirty-five properties at the same time. Now, he had earned enough to retire early to his own island.

The journey from England to Richard’s island was almost eight hours. During this time, Richard continued his stories about the ‘accidents’. They seemed to be very odd and Caroline soon believed that Richard’s life was being put in danger. She agreed to stay for the weekend.

Eventually they arrived on the private island. Richard insisted on carrying Caroline’s suitcase and being as stubborn as he was, wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“I am perfectly capable of carrying my luggage Richard!”

Her words had no effect and he walked ahead of her. She rolled her eyes then followed him up several outside stairs to the mansion. The house was huge but to Caroline, it lacked character. Richard led her to her bedroom, the ‘Magnolia’ room, also known to the family as ‘the guest room’.

Caroline gasped as she stepped up into the room, (there was a wooden step as the room was higher than the landing). It was beautiful and full of space. The interior was surprisingly modern for Richard had always said that he wanted a house which had many period features. The room itself was much bigger than most master bedrooms and it was, Richard informed her was the smallest bedroom in the house! Richard placed her suitcase beside the bed and then excused himself, allowing Caroline to unpack.

Caroline unzipped the case and took out her neatly folded clothes. She opened the wardrobe (which she presumed that she could use) and managed to stack all of her clothes on the bottom shelf of it.

Then, after telling Richard where she was going, she walked down to the beach. When she arrived, she was again amazed. The beach was fine and sandy. She removed her shoes and felt the grains fill the spaces in between her toes. Her thoughts turned to when she had recently had a chance to relax. Since she had joined the Police force, it seemed such a long time ago when she had sunbathed or swam in the sea or even walked on a beach.

An hour later, she returned to the mansion just as Richard’s two daughters and his old friends arrived. They immediately moved into the dining room for the delicious buffet. The flight had taken most of the energy out of her so, as soon as she could, Caroline retired to the Magnolia room, her bedroom. She had a soothing bubble bath and changed into her night-gown. She got into bed but found, although she was tired, she couldn’t actually sleep. So she retrieved a book from her suitcase. Caroline glanced at the clock - it was only half-past nine. Ten minutes later, she heard someone walking and muttering as they walked past her door. She was sure it was a woman’s voice, a young woman. Caroline closed the book and continued to listen. She heard the door to the room, next to her own, open. A few minutes later, the door was closed and the footsteps returned, heading downstairs to the party. When she was sure that the woman was gone, Caroline got out of bed, put on her dressing gown and peeked outside to see the room adjacent to hers. She tried to open the door; it was locked. But on the door was a nameplate which read ‘Angelica’. Caroline retreated into her room.

She knew Richard had two daughters, the eldest was called Brooke and the youngest, Angelica. Brooke was twenty-two years old and Angelica was three years younger, nineteen. Their mother, Gertrude, had died of a heart attack ten years ago. Richard had brought the girls up and showered them with so many gifts and so much money that in the end, the girls didn’t need him for comfort and love, all they wanted was his money. He had unintentionally driven them away (the both left the island as soon as they were eighteen) because he had nothing left to give them. He had asked too many questions so the girls simply moved away. However, they had both recently been desperate for money so they had agreed to spend the weekend with their father.

A great storm hit the island that evening. Thunder rumbled across the night sky, rain fell heavily and lighting bounced off the ground in several places. This worried many of the guests, so they had all gone before the eleventh hour that evening. Richard was not disappointed as he, like Caroline, was tired and so he walked slowly up to his bedroom which was the ‘Red room’.

An hour past, it was midnight. Caroline had fallen into a light sleep. A shot sounded. A high-pitched scream pierced through the air. Caroline leapt from her bed and slipped her silk dressing-gown back on. She ran out of her room, forgetting about the step and she fell, twisting her ankle awkwardly in the process. Brooke ran by and stopped to help her up. Brooke’s hand had a black powder lightly dusted on it which partly transferred onto Caroline’s. Brooke saw Caroline looking at it.

“Oh, I must have accidentally rubbed coal on it when I was starting a fire in the fireplace,” Brooke explained.

Caroline hobbled as quickly as she could to the place where the shot was fired.

The door of the room was wide open. Angelica stood over the bed, holding a black revolver in her left hand. As Caroline grew closer, she could see the wallpaper and carpet of the room. Red. She reached the room, her heart thumping so fast that she could almost hear it.

Richard Robins was sprawled on the bed with a single shot through his right temple. Caroline knelt and in desperation tried to find his pulse. She was unsuccessful. Richard was dead and Angelica (who was still screaming) was holding the revolver.

“He’s dead.” Caroline confirmed, bowing her head.

“You!” Brooke yelled. “You killed him! You wanted to go back to your old lifestyle, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

Angelica sobbed, “I didn’t do it,”

“What are we going to do?” Caroline asked.

“I just walked in,”

“The phone lines are down, because of the storm,” Caroline thought aloud.

“I found him dead and picked up the gun,”

“What are we going to do?” Caroline repeated.

“I didn’t do it. I swear,”

“I understand, Angelica, I understand.” Caroline said, comfortingly. Though, truthfully, she had her suspicions of Angelica, Brooke was right. Angelica had led a wild lifestyle and done many things which weren’t very honest. She had been: drunk almost every night, banned from driving and even fined for being disorderly in public.

Caroline instantly took charge, as a police detective, she felt it was her duty. So she sealed off the room and took the revolver from Angelica.

Her thoughts turned to her near future. Richard was dead and she was alone, with his two daughters, with no way of escape or communication because of the storm. So it had to be either Angelica or Brooke. Angelica had been found with the gun - and a perfect motive. It was perfect, wasn’t it?

Caroline was almost sure but something was bothering her but she wasn’t sure what it was. It struck her. The accidents. How could she prove who had moved the rug? All evidence, if there was any, would have been destroyed at the gathering. The daughters, one or both had killed their father. She could be next, she was a detective.

“Oh great,” she muttered. “No more sleep for me, I suppose,”

She descended to the living room. Angelica and Brooke were sitting opposite each other, eying the other with suspicion. She took several moments to consider each of the sisters.

Angelica was a typical younger child. She looked to her elder sister for advice (on shoes mainly) and in her childhood years, she had tried anything possible to wind Brooke up. Many times she had succeeded. Her eyes were a light blue, her hair was blonde like her father’s and wavy as her late mother’s had been. Now she stared at her older sister with a poker face.

Brooke was very glamorous and had class. Her long, flowery skirt draped over her thin legs. She also wore a smart, pure-white blouse. Brooke was definitely an older version of her sister. Her hair was straightened and tied up but its natural state was wavy. The colour, however, was chocolate-brown, this she had inherited from her mother.

Caroline sat on the sofa; she rested her damaged ankle on the footstall. She was facing a window. She could hear the sea crashing against the sand and cliffs, it was too dark to see it.

They did not speak. The silence continued for over an hour. The tension between the siblings was almost unbearable but Caroline didn’t want to leave them alone together.

Caroline used this time to her advantage. She sipped her black coffee (which she had made herself) and attempted to sort out the thoughts which were swimming through her head. She felt the caffeine kick in and she needed it. Her sleep had been interrupted by the shot after only an hour of sleep.

They all went to bed and locked their door. Caroline could hear Angelica sobbing through the wall.

Who have the most motive? Money? Surely they had enough? Obviously not. Caroline, for the first time in her career, found it difficult to separate a case from her emotions. Yesterday, she had spent some time with a man who was full of life and today, he was gone.

Since that fateful hour, the mansion had felt empty and she knew why; its character, Richard, had been ripped from it. She had walked around the house the next morning expecting Richard’s kindly face coming forward to greet her.

Caroline was adamant that no one could have retuned to the house, she knew that all the guests would have hurried home to protect their property.

It came to her after so much thought. At first, something was bothering her. She took around twenty minutes to understand what it was. It struck her; it had been too easy.

She decided to break the silence and tension between the sisters who were now glaring at each other.

“Angelica, could you write your name on this piece of paper for me?” Caroline asked gently.

“Why? There’s no point.” She objected.

“I agree,” Brooke remarked.

“Please. I am trying to work something out.” Caroline pleaded. She got up and passed a piece of paper and a fountain pen to Angelica.

Angelica picked up the pen with her left hand.

“Aha,” Caroline smiled softly.

“What?” Brooke asked sharply.

“I know.” Caroline said slowly. “Who killed Richard Robins, your father.”

“Why can’t you let my father rest?” Brooke shouted with a tear in her eye.

“I think that I should start from the beginning - before I arrived on the island. Richard was convinced that someone had been trying to kill him,”

“No!” Angelica interrupted. “I didn’t move the rug to kill him,”

Caroline was bemused, “You?”

“I didn’t do it to kill him,” Angelica repeated. “Brooke told you about my old lifestyle. I really was in a bad way but I have changed. I was too shy to approach daddy again so I waited. Then, I came home from the shopping centre and I had a message on the answer phone. It was daddy , inviting me to stay for this weekend. I arrived and I knew that he didn’t trust me. I moved the rug so that he would fall down the stairs and be injured. Then I was going to nurse him and look after him until he got back - I was going to win back his trust. That’s all I wanted,”

“Well that certainly explains a lot but anyhow I know that you Brooke, killed Richard. Not only that, you tried to frame it on your sister,”

“You liar!” Brooke screamed.

“I am not lying, you know that. You knew what Angelica was doing, so you decided to frame it on her. When I fell down the step outside my room, you helped me to get up using your right hand, your strongest hand. Also, on your hand, you had a black powder. It wasn’t coal, it was gunpowder. I walked around the mansion this morning, there were no fireplaces. Richard was shot in the right temple, indicating that the killer was right-handed. You are right handed Brooke,”

“What motive do I have? Brooke added, “Assuming I murdered my father,”

“Jealousy. As I mentioned before, you knew what Angelica was planning to do. You had been faithful to your father and did everything that you could to impress and please him. You saw Angelica as a traitor and you knew that your father had a forgiving nature. Tell me, how close am I?”

“Almost right. There is no reason to deny it. You have the motive wrong, I did it because daddy had written Angelica out of his will when she left. It was all going to belong to me. I killed him before he had a chance to change it.” Brooke suddenly stood up and walked into the kitchen. “It’s all over isn’t it?” She picked up a carving knife from the kitchen, turned towards her sister and Caroline and stabbed herself.

A high pitched scream pierced the air for the second time that morning. It was Angelica again. Caroline held her back - if she touched the body of her sister it would make things much worse for herself.

“It’s going to be alright Angelica,” Caroline repeated the murderess’s words. “It’s all over,”