On Trial

by Zanna Mackenzie

  On Trial

  An Amber Reed Mystery

  by

  Zanna Mackenzie

  About the book:

  “Romantic comedy meets celebrity mystery”

  Standing between Amber and her chance at getting a dream job with the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency (CCIA) is one final challenge, one last assignment.

  Her task?

  Whisked away to a luxury hotel where the rich and famous are frequent guests, she has only 24 hours to track down who kidnapped the bride-to-be moments before her celebrity wedding.

  An exciting new life, career and the chance to work alongside her CCIA special agent boyfriend Charlie are all tantalizingly close…but can she remember everything she’s learnt, manage to keep her head, and solve the case before the deadline?

  On Trial, An Amber Reed Mystery (1.5) © 2015 Zanna Mackenzie

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All plots, incidents, characters, locations, organisations, names etc. are fictitious, created from the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, incidents, locations, organisations, names is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be stored, shared, copied, transmitted or reproduced in any way without express written permission from the author.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS & DEDICATIONS

  Huge thanks to Caroline, Chris and Sarah – you are all STARS!

  Thanks also to my husband Doug for his constant support and encouragement – love you lots!

  CHAPTER ONE

  “You’re ready.”

  I struggle to catch my breath. Tucking a strand of sweaty strawberry blonde hair behind my ear I gasp, “You’re sure?”

  James, my agency trainer and mentor, nods and smiles. “Yep. I’m sure.”

  When I signed up for the chance to become a support officer for the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency (otherwise known as the CCIA) I knew my apprenticeship would be tough. I’ve fought to put aside the aching limbs, lack of sleep and mental demands of these past few months and keep my eyes firmly on the prize - my dream job.

  If I do manage to complete my apprenticeship, and still be alive at the end of all of this, then hopefully the agency will offer me a job as a support officer. Right now though, I’m wondering if James is right. Am I really ready for the next stage of my training? It doesn’t feel like it. Despite all the efforts to build up my fitness I’m still gasping and out of breath after facing the assault course from hell. I have to confess, I didn’t realise throwing myself into muddy ditches, climbing trees and being abandoned in the middle of nowhere with just a map, compass and bottle of water would be the type of assignments I’d be put through. I mean, I’m applying to be a support officer, not a special agent. But as James pointed out, if I get this job I will work alongside agents, and where they go in order to solve a case, then so do I.

  The steady beat of helicopter blades makes me shield my eyes and peer into the skies above the hundreds of acres of woodland, moor and hills which surround agency training camp.

  “That’s our lift,” James says, gesturing towards the helicopter now coming in to land in the field just across from us. “You’ve got ten minutes to pack your stuff and meet me back here. This will be your final challenge. Fail this one and you’ll be on your way home with no job.”

  Nerves and anxiety bubble up inside of me. This is it. My last chance to prove myself. My last training exercise. Whatever I am about to face will determine my life from this point on. “Only ten minutes? Where are we going anyway?” I shout above the sound of the sinister-looking black helicopter.

  “Yes, you’ve only got ten minutes, so you’d better get a move on,” James shouts back. “I’ll explain later where we’re going and why.”

  I sprint for my cell-like bedroom in the training block and throw clothes, toiletries and my How To Be A Support Officer course folder and notes into my suitcase. As I tug the case down the hallways, dashing back to meet James, my mind is whirling. What will my assignment be? Where will it be? What if I fail?

  James is waiting for me with his holdall slung over one shoulder. “OK, Amber. Let’s get this show on the road. Well, I suppose in this case I should say let’s get this case up in the air instead!” He laughs and nods towards the helicopter. “After you.”

  I step forward but stop as James tugs gently at my arm. “You can do this, Amber. Just remember everything you’ve learned these past few months.”

  “Everything?” I gulp. “That’s a lot of stuff to remember.”

  James winks then pushes me forward, placing a hand on top of my head to indicate I need to stay well below the blades of the helicopter which are now powering up, ready for take-off. Clambering into my seat I fasten my seatbelt. My stomach is in knots. I’ve never flown in a helicopter before and I’m feeling a tad nauseous as we lift off. The land drops away below us and we soar over the forests and hills, off to goodness knows where.

  “Hey,” a voice says to the right of me. “I’m Mitch.”

  Caught up in what’s going on, I hadn’t even registered the fact there are two other people sitting beside me. Some support officer I’ll make. I definitely need to get to grips with being more observant. I also need to remember absolutely everything I’ve had drilled into my mind during training as well. Not an easy task. If I fail this assignment everything I’ve gone through so far will be for nothing. Plus, I’ll never get to work with Charlie. I need to do this, and I need to do it right.

  Forcing down my anxiety I fix a smile on my face. “Hi, I’m Amber.”

  “Support officer trainee, right?” Mitch replies, looking me up and down, his gaze lingering a little too long in certain places and making me feel uncomfortable.

  I nod. “You?”

  “Recently qualified special agent status,” he says proudly. “This will be my first case taking the lead.”

  He’s well spoken and has a British aristocratic air about him. His sandy hair is short and tidy but not in an army way, more in a this-haircut-was-done-in-a-trendy-London-salon-and-cost-more-than-you-earn-in-a-month kind of way.

  “This is Esme,” he says, leaning back in his seat to reveal a woman I’d guess to be in her mid-twenties.

  “Hi!” she waves and grins at me. “Don’t you just love flying like this? It’s awesome.”

  Actually, no, I don’t, but there’s no way I’m about to admit as much. Instead I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, it’s amazing. Are you an agent too?”

  She laughs. “I will be one day, but for now I’m a support officer trainee like you.”

  Esme’s deathly pale skin and jet black hair combined with numerous piercings on her ears, nose and mouth give her a don’t-mess-with-me look. I’m glad we’re both on the same side for this assignment. Fortunately, we aren’t competing for one job because the agency will take us both on - providing we meet this challenge and come up to the required standards.

  “So, where are we going?” I ask them. “Do either of you know what case we will be working on?”

  Mitch shrugs. “No idea. Apparently James is going to fill us in on the details when we arrive. From which point we’ll have just twenty-four hours to solve the case.”

  Only twenty-four hours? That can’t be right, can it? I turn to James for confirmation of this piece of news. He simply nods and a sneaky smile snakes across his stubble-strewn face. James has been a terrific trainer and mentor. He’s firm but fair, always encouraging, but he doesn’t stand for any wimping out. He’s also a good friend of Charlie’s.

  I sit back and focus on the horizon, forcing myself to think positive thoughts. I will not allow the rising tide of nausea and anxiety to take hold. I
will not let negativity and doubt worm its way into my head. I think of Charlie instead. My Charlie. We’ve been dating for several months. He’s off working on yet another case at the moment. He’s a CCIA special agent and right about now he will probably be coming to the aid of some celebrity somewhere around the globe. He’s prohibited from telling me the details of what he’s investigating because it’s against agency rules. In addition, as all of the CCIA’s clients are famous, everyone has a big fat privacy clause written into their contract. Between his investigation caseload and my time at CCIA training camp we haven’t seen much of each other lately.

  The helicopter suddenly dips alarmingly and it looks as though we’re heading in to land at our destination. My stomach performs several somersaults and I’m glad I didn’t have time for any lunch. I feel hot and cold at the same time. What have I got myself into? What will my last test be?

  I gulp and remind myself to stay calm.

  I can do this.

  I can do this.

  Can’t I?

  CHAPTER TWO

  We’re landing on the helipad of a large country house which looks vaguely familiar. It’s built of Cumbrian stone and slate and looks very impressive. Where have I seen it before?

  “This is the Roseby Hotel,” James says, unclipping his seatbelt before we’ve even touched down.

  The Roseby. Of course. That’s why it looks familiar. I’ve seen it in loads of magazines and on the TV. It’s a five star hotel frequented by the rich and famous. Nestling in acres of private grounds, it sits part way up a hill in the Lake District, a few miles from the tourist town of Delamere.

  Wow. I never thought I’d get to stay at the Roseby.

  James opens the door, jumps out and beckons for the rest of us to follow. I fumble with my seatbelt to gain a few precious seconds so that by the time I do step out the helicopter has actually landed. I scurry over to James remembering to stay low down so as not to tangle with the helicopter blades. Seconds later we’re joined by Esme and Mitch.

  “This way,” James instructs, leading us along a path towards the hotel.

  The cool wind swirls around us and the fresh air thankfully calms my stomach, helping to clear my head after the flight. I glance around. The leaves on the trees are showing distinct flashes of yellow and orange as autumn gets into its stride. Far below us, at the edge of the hotel’s grounds, I can make out a stretch of water in the dusky afternoon light. A few yachts are moored in a small marina and islands stud the lake. I dread to think how much a suite at the Roseby costs per night. Are we actually getting to stay in a luxury hotel whilst we do our training?

  “In here?” I ask, as the path curves around some shrubs and a slate-tiled and decidedly grand entrance comes into view.

  “No,” James replies. “That’s for the guests. We’re using the staff entrance round the back.”

  Ah, yes, of course we are.

  Our little group traipses around the edge of the building before eventually taking the steps down to the door the hotel’s employees use.

  “OK, you have rooms in the staff quarters. Go down the corridor on the right and take the three rooms at the far end. Sort yourselves out then meet me back here in fifteen minutes,” James instructs.

  “You said we have a room each, so where are you staying?” Esme asks James.

  “I’ll be staying in the hotel,” he replies with a smirk. “Trainer perks.”

  “Typical,” Esme mutters as James disappears off in the opposite direction.

  I lead the way to our accommodation as Esme, clearly starting as she means to go on, teases Mitch. “So, if you’re a qualified special agent how come you’re stuck in the staff quarters with the lowly support-officers-to-be?” she asks him.

  “I suppose it’s because I’m still the new guy and have yet to prove myself,” he replies smoothly. “That won’t be the case for long though. This assignment is just a formality for me. Soon I’ll be a fully qualified agent, moving up the ranks, and then I’ll be the one in charge on proper missions not pretend ones like this.”

  Esme nudges me and when I glance over she rolls her eyes in Mitch’s direction.

  “Right, who wants what room?” I say as we reach the end of the corridor. The doors are open on the three rooms and they all look identical so I don’t think it matters who sleeps where, but it feels right to offer the others a choice.

  “I’ll take this one,” Mitch replies, strolling into the nearest room and dumping his holdall on the bed.

  Esme turns to me and shrugs. “I’m not fussed.”

  “I’ll take this one for me then,” I say, selecting the room right at the end of the corridor. Esme goes into the remaining room and flops dramatically onto the bed.

  I inspect my room but, in truth, there’s not much to inspect. The suites at the Roseby must cost an astronomical amount and I’m sure they’re furnished to the highest standards. I seem to recall from bits I’ve seen in magazines that there’s no such thing as a room here; they’re all suites, complete with their own lounges, luxury spa bathrooms and private balconies or verandas. Unsurprisingly, the staff bedrooms hold no such pretentions of grandeur. Before me is a single bed with a white duvet. The floor is beige carpet tiles. In the corner of the space is a large wardrobe. There’s a wooden chair next to the bed, and a door opens into the tiniest shower room I’ve ever seen. Everything is clean but basic. I wheel my suitcase towards the wardrobe but leave it unopened. There’s no time to unpack. I can hear Mitch and Esme chatting (or should that be bickering?) as they wait for me in the hallway. They seem to have a lot to say to each other.

  “OK?” I say, pinning an enthusiastic grin on my face as I step out to join the others. I’m so nervous my palms are all sweaty and it feels as though there’s a zillion butterflies in my stomach. “Shall we go and meet James then and get this thing started?”

  Esme strides off down the corridor. There’s an air of confidence and purposefulness about her which a part of me envies just a teensy bit. Whichever special agents she ends up working with when she qualifies I feel sure she’ll be a great asset to them.

  “You’re late,” James says, as we turn the corner to find him sitting on a sofa in the staff lounge. He has the boot of his right foot resting on his left knee and looks as though he’s enjoying all of this.

  “Sorry,” I reply, noticing neither Mitch nor Esme utter their apologies for tardiness.

  “So, what’s the job?” Mitch asks, as he sits on the arm of a chair and fixes James with an intense gaze. “The sooner we get started the sooner I can get out of here and back to solving real crimes in the real world, not fake ones like this.”

  James ignores his snide comment. “This is a set up case to test each of you. It’s all pretend but designed to seem as realistic as possible. This hotel is currently undergoing refurbishment in several of its suites and some of the public areas. It has closed for two weeks rather than risk any chance of disruption to its rather particular guests. As the CCIA has worked with the hotel on numerous occasions in the past, the owners have kindly agreed to let us have use of the Roseby for the purposes of this assignment. The people involved with this case will be a mix of hotel and agency staff. They have all been given roles to play. People will try to trick you, lead you off in different directions, as you try to figure things out. From this point on, assume everyone you meet is a part of this assignment. You are now the official investigating officers for this case. You are here to work and you’re expected to behave accordingly.”

  James gets to his feet, picks up a folder and hands out a sheaf of paper to each of us. “The hotel is hosting a celebrity wedding. The happy couple and their guests have taken over the whole of the Roseby for three days with their family and friends. The wedding photos have been sold to Celeb Spotter magazine.”

  A tingle of excitement runs through me. This is the kind of life I could lead if I pass this assignment and get offered a job with the agency. Even better, I c
ould help to solve celebrity crime cases working alongside Charlie. Of course, if I do qualify, there’s no guarantee we’ll be assigned to work on investigations together. But, as Charlie is the agent who recommended me for CCIA training, I’m hoping they’ll appoint him as my mentor.

  “The wedding ceremony is scheduled for seven o’clock today and will take place in the marquee in the grounds,” James continues.

  I glance at my watch. Seven o’clock. That’s in just over an hour.

  “So what goes wrong?” Esme asks. “What do we have to investigate? Did somebody shoot the groom?”

  “You’re about to find out exactly what’s happened,” James replies, heading out of the door. “Follow me.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  17:45. The deadline clock starts ticking.

  The marquee, decked with white fairy lights, takes up a large proportion of the lawn nearest to the hotel. I can hear shouting and general commotion inside it as we approach.

  James stops and turns to us. “OK. Welcome to what should have been the venue for the wedding ceremony for rock musician Taylor and his fiancée Poppy, who works in public relations. This is where I leave you guys to do your job. Mitch, you’re in charge of this investigation. You’ve all got until six o’clock tomorrow evening to solve this case or I’m afraid you’ll have failed. Good luck.” He steps aside and gestures for us to go into the marquee.

  Inside the extremely fancy tent a cluster of people are arguing and crying at the same time. Behind them is a dais area and a silver metal arch which is festooned with gold, white and orange flowers. I presume that’s the spot where the bride and groom should have exchanged their vows. The celebratory decorations look out of place though amongst all of the bickering and bawling. I glance around, recalling how I’m supposed to assess a crime scene for any clues. There are rows of chairs, each covered in a cream fabric, all lined up to face the altar where the people, presumably fake wedding guests dressed in their finery, are standing looking angry and upset. On a table off to one side sits the largest wedding cake I have ever seen. Briefly I wonder if it’s real or one of those polystyrene cakes they use to create beautiful displays in bakery windows. Whether that cake is real or fake I have to say I’m beyond impressed; the agency and the hotel have made every effort to make this case seem as real as possible. My stomach grumbles at the sight of the cake, reminding me I didn’t have chance to eat any lunch today. No time for such thoughts now though, I need to concentrate on the job at hand.