The First Clue

Bicycles are the primary form of transport for students the world over, and I was no exception. I had purchased myself a rather sorry looking second-hand boneshaker, but it was good enough to get me around the city, or back to my digs in North Oxford. Bike crime is rife in Oxford, and no bike is safe from the chain cutters. The more knackered looking the bike, however, the better the chances were that it would still be were you left it when you returned.

I'm starting to get more used to things now. In my final year at LMH it would be great to live in at the College and get the full-on LMH experience; a bedroom-study in the Quad, dinners in the dinning hall, visits to the junior common room on a regular basis, tennis and evening strolls through the grounds - even swims in the Cherwell.

During the week I am staying at a very imposing house, extending over four storeys. Anita Gupta bought it when she moved to Oxford in the mid eighties with her husband Ravinda, who is a Consultant Radiation Oncologist. He is a fairly short middle-aged man; a little chubby around the cheeks with the beginnings of a pot belly. His hair is luxuriant black, and he has a closely clipped moustache. He has a calm, commanding sort of personality, typical of many medical doctors.

Now the house is a prime piece of North Oxford real-estate, and worth a fortune. I have my own key to the front door. The spacious hallway is lit during the day by a symphony of multicoloured lights from intricate stained glass windows in the doorframe. There are two floors above the ground floor. The first has four bedrooms and a family bathroom, and the second two bedrooms, a shower room, an office and a TV/music room. My room is one of the guest bedrooms at the top of the house, on the second floor. It has a comfortable single bed, easy chair, modern storage cabinets and built-in wardrobes. I have exclusive use of the office, with its Internet-connected computer, printer and photocopier. I also have the TV room to myself, as the Gupta boys are away at College.

Anita is a very accomplished cook and I get well catered for with Indian cuisine – which I love.

This morning I arrived in the kitchen to be greeted by the perplexed face of my host. “I’m terribly sorry Alexander,” she said apologetically, “but I can’t find that chess piece of yours anywhere (she had borrowed it). I left it on the kitchen table last night, and now it’s nowhere to be seen. I have searched the kitchen, lounge and dinning room.”

I was furious. The chess piece could be a key, the only link to the long lost memories that have been obliterated from my mind. I wanted to dance up and down yelling. But then a thought suddenly entered my head. “Has Lucy been in here this morning?” I asked, as calmly as I could, my rage still seething.

“Yes,” said Anita, still flustered. “I always feed her before I go to work.” I made for the kitchen door. “I’ll bet the dog’s got it,” I yelled, as I sprinted down the garden. It was clear that the dog, a golden retriever, was munching on something. To my horror, as I got closer, I could see that the dog had the chess piece in its mouth. Reaching the startled creature, it dropped the chess piece and looked at me quizzically. Grabbing it, I frantically inspected it for damage. To my horror I could see that the outer surface was mangled with tooth marks, and a piece of the base had been chewed away; but the damage was only superficial. It was clear that the black ivory-like material was only a veneer and underneath it was glistening silver metal. An embossed eye in the style of an Egyptian hieroglyph had been exposed at the base of the chess piece. As I looked at it, a cold shiver ran through me.