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Free guide
A mystery
O Último Álibi
Letícia Madureira
Cinco convidados, uma sala trancada e um desaparecimento que ninguém viu acontecer
31 pages · about 20 minutes to read · PDF
Inside the guide
6 chapters, and what each one leaves you able to do.
- 01
A Sala do Relógio
In the locked gallery of the mansion, Rita Vaz watches a lacquered box open to reveal an empty velvet bed.
- 02
Cinco Álibis
Rita questions each guest in the drawing room; by midnight she has five alibis, each resting on another guest.
- 03
O Que Faltou Dizer
Rita returns to the gallery and finds a dropped pocket watch stopped at 20:47, which no guest's statement explains.
- 04
O Fio do Reposteiro
Rita and Tomás trace the watch's repair tag to Lisbon; the jeweller names Emília, and Rita demands her keys.
- 05
A Confissão do Motorista
Cornered in the garage, Bento admits he lied and hands Rita an envelope Emília paid him to keep hidden.
- 06
O Último Álibi
Rita gathers all five in the gallery and shows how one locked room held two thieves, then names the instigator.
Look inside
Two real pages, set exactly as they print.
01
A Sala do Relógio
In the locked gallery of the mansion, Rita Vaz watches a lacquered box open to reveal an empty velvet bed.
Rita Vaz held the lacquered box at chest height and turned it until the gold inlay caught the light from the lamp. The gallery smelled of beeswax and old wool. Her own breath sounded loud in the high room, and beyond the door the string quartet had stopped scraping through its second movement. Guests were drifting towards the dining room, their laughter arriving in short bursts whenever a servant opened the door. Rita had perhaps four minutes.
She set the box on the card table and worked the small brass key in the lock. Clock oil, she thought. Do not force it. The key turned with a soft click, and the lid lifted on its hinges. Inside, an empty velvet bed. The rectangle of dark blue cloth held the shape of something that was no longer there, and in the centre a faint ring of dust marked where it had rested.
The clocks in the room went on ticking. There were eleven of them on the walls, not counting the long case by the window, and she had promised to catalogue all of them before the auction. She looked at the empty bed and did not touch it.
The door behind her opened.
Females, said Duarte from the threshold. You invited me to see the clocks.
She closed the lid before she turned, and her hand stayed flat on the box.
Duarte came in and stood by the case, hands behind his back. He was the lawyer for the family, sixty years old, with a grey moustache trimmed too short for his face. He read the room the way he read contracts.
You are holding the box, he said.
I am.
The one from the study.
Yes.