Winifred Merryweather loves mysteries. She believes her sleuthing abilities, while maybe not on par with London’s most brilliant detective, are nonetheless extremely capable. After all, when she meets with the members of her reading club at Lord Nelson Chatham’s estate, isn’t she the first to deduce the identity of the villain in the books they discuss?

But when the whole of her reading club, along with newspaper reporter Remington Hawthorne, is kidnapped and thrust into a mystery not of their choosing, Winifred must use every skill she possesses to uncover the clues. What is the truth behind the nightmarish scenario they find themselves in? Who is their abductor? Are the tricks and riddles which confront them merely a test of their initiative – or something more sinister?

And why do Remington’s flirtatious charms annoy her so maddeningly?

The answers don’t come easily and Winifred soon learns that solving a real-life mystery is anything but “elementary”.

EXCERPT

“He’s a reporter.” Not entirely understanding her reason of why she should, Winifred came to his defense. “He’s trained to look at both sides of an issue without being biased. If he hadn’t been here to discuss this situation rationally, would any of us have considered the possibility of Xavier?”

“We don’t know that Xavier is responsible for any of this.” The countess waved the newspaper page that contained Remington’s article.

“But we know Mr. Hawthorne’s contempt for one of the greatest minds in London, if not the world.”

“That is giving Mr. Holmes too much credit, ma’am.” Winifred spoke the words rashly, regretting them as soon as they’d left her mouth.

“Ah. Yes. How could I have forgotten?” Like a cat readied to pounce, the countess switched her attack off Remington and onto Winifred. A chill ran down Winifred’s spine as she imagined the older woman flexing her claws. “You’re not an admirer of Holmes either. You prefer the talents of his arch-enemy, Professor Moriarty.”

“What!” Remington spun on his heel, staring at Winifred with stunned eyes. “Moriarty?”

“This is neither the time nor the place to debate the matter.” Winifred rose to her feet, hoping the stony look she gave the countess might quell her acid tongue. “There are far more important issues at the moment.”

She turned her back and walked to the spot beneath the wall clock. From behind her came Lord Chatham’s gruff rebuke. “Edwina, I thought a heart used to beat inside your chest. Did it disappear when you received that dratted title?”

Winifred tuned out the sound of the countess’s angry gasp, for Remington appeared beside her. His mouth twisted in a lopsided smile.

“I believe this situation is affecting all our nerves. But I’d like to thank you for not taking the countess’s position against me.”

“No need to thank me, sir.” She grasped her hands together so tightly she flinched from the pain. “I believe in fairness, and the countess seems determined to condemn you unjustly.”

“My dear Miss Merryweather.” Remington leaned an arm against the wall, his elbow grazing the bottom of the clock and nudging it aside.

“If there’s one thing I’m learning about you…” His words shut off as the wall moved from under him. Knocked off balance, he stumbled back. Like a pendulum, the wall swung around, striking Winifred and crashing her body against his. Together, they dropped through an opening that yawned beneath them.