Detective Eliza

Puzzle of the Phantom Reflection

Rain tapped a rhythmic dance on the windowpane, creating an ambiance of solitude and deep thought in Eliza's dimly lit office. The mahogany bookshelves, filled with volumes of unsolved mysteries and tales of past investigations, were a testament to her expertise. The air was thick with anticipation, and the faint scent of aged paper and leather was ever-present.

Robert, lost in his world of tech, adjusted the frames of his glasses and typed away diligently on his state-of-the-art computer. Martha, standing near the door, was intently organizing some files, her ever-watchful eyes catching every detail.

A sudden rustling at the door broke the calm. A piece of weathered parchment slid underneath it. Eliza, always alert, was the first to move. She bent down, her fingers brushing lightly against the cold floor as she picked up the tattered paper.

Martha's keen eyes observed, "There's no address, no seal. Odd."

Robert momentarily tore his eyes away from the screen, curiosity evident on his face, "A secret message, perhaps?"

Eliza carefully unfolded the paper. The handwriting was elegant, yet there was a hint of haste, almost as if the writer had been in a rush. Her voice, calm yet filled with intrigue, filled the room, "I see the mirror but not my reflection. Help me find what I'm missing."

Martha, puzzled, tilted her head slightly, "A riddle? Or a coded plea for assistance?"

Robert, leaning over, pointed to the faint watermark on the parchment. "This isn't ordinary paper; it's at least a century old."

Eliza's brow furrowed, her mind racing. She recalled tales of haunted mirrors and phantom reflections from her readings. "Someone is reaching out from the shadows of the past," she murmured.

Robert, always practical, mused, "Or it might just be a hoax. A trick to lure you into a trap."

Martha's face, usually calm, showed concern. "Eliza, be careful. The world of reflections and illusions is treacherous."

But Eliza's innate curiosity was piqued. Her fingers traced the edges of the paper, "There's a mystery here, and I intend to unravel it." Her gaze, intense and unwavering, settled on the mysterious message, promising the reader a journey full of intrigue and enigma.

An Age-Old Haunting

The next day found the trio approaching a mansion that seemed out of place in the modern world, almost as if time had forgotten its existence. Tall oaks, centuries old, overshadowed the house, their limbs creaking and swaying. Vines clung to the stone facade like tight-fisted memories refusing to let go. The atmosphere was palpable with the weight of untold stories and secrets.

As they neared the entrance, Martha hesitated, her usually assertive demeanor betraying a hint of anxiety. "This place... it has an aura. Can you feel it?"

Robert, preoccupied with his devices that beeped and blinked, nodded, "The electromagnetic readings are off the charts. There's definitely something unusual about this place."

Eliza, with her detective's instinct on high alert, rang the ornate doorbell. Moments later, they were greeted by an elderly lady. Frail in appearance but with a regality that spoke of bygone eras, she introduced herself as Ms. Lydia.

Inside, the mansion whispered tales from the past. Eliza couldn't help but feel an odd sense of familiarity, as if she had been here before. Following Ms. Lydia, they walked through dimly lit corridors where ornate mirrors adorned the walls. Eliza paused by one, a sense of unease settling over her. As she had read, her reflection was clear, but Ms. Lydia's was conspicuously absent.