Julie and Kitturian made their way back inside the mansion.

  While the mystery remained stubbornly unsolved, Julie was beginning to see Mrs. Lyrana in a new light. After all, anyone willing to help Rose could not be entirely hopeless. Still, all their efforts had produced nothing so far, a fact which became harder to ignore with each passing hour.

  “This isn’t going anywhere,” she sighed.

  “Oh, it’s going somewhere,” Kitturian said. “The question is, are you following?”

  There was a pause. Not a long pause, but the kind of pause that occurs when a person is trying to decide whether to nod or ask for a complete rephrasing. But before Julie could ask, her eyes caught a sight that promised to shake things up.

  Coming down the grand staircase was a young, blue-skinned, Zylari man. There was not much to him—lanky, average height—but he carried himself with the effortless elegance that seemed to come with being Zylari. His black hair was slicked back without a single strand daring to stray, the work of a man who had elevated daily grooming into a precise science.

  But Julie noticed a tightness about his eyes and a downturn at the corners of his mouth that seemed out of character for his usually carefree ways.

  “Zylas!” Julie said. “Madam Nerivana’s nephew. He’s always getting himself tangled up in these ridiculous money schemes that just leave him broke! And Madam Nerivana, she gets SO frustrated every time he comes asking for help. It’s so obvious now that he’s the one who stole the Star!”

  “Obvious is a word for the simple-minded,” Kitturian said. “But he’s a lead worth following. Let’s have a word.”

  Julie had the nagging sense she had been on the receiving end of an insult, but she filed it away for future scrutiny. For now, they made their way over to Zylas, who had reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “Mind sparing us a moment?” Kitturian asked.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?” Zylas said, in a haughty tone.

  “Kitturian. Detective. Your aunt hired me to solve the little heirloom mystery.”

  “Ah, the Star. If I could only get my hands on the scoundrel who dared to steal it, I would deal with them personally.”

  “Clearly, this heirloom means a great deal to you,” Kitturian said.

  “Of course it does! It is a family heirloom, passed down for generations. And its worth is beyond measure. To think that someone could have snatched it from right under our noses…it makes my blood boil!”

  “Mrs. Lyrana referred to it as a mere trinket,” Kitturian said.

  “Trinket?!” Zylas exclaimed. “That Star is worth more than your entire fortune, detective! I can only imagine the value it would fetch on the black market. Not that I would ever part with it, of course. It is a symbol of my family’s wealth and status.”

  “Any leads on who may have taken it?”

  “Ha! Aunt Nerivana seems to believe that lowly servant girl is the one who did it,” Zylas said. “But I have my doubts. No, I believe the culprit is someone much more cunning and scheming than a mere servant. Mark my words, I will uncover the truth and reclaim what is rightfully mine! I mean, my family’s.”

  “Thank you. That’s… enlightening,” Kitturian said.

  “Of course, of course,” Zylas said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to some important matters. Good day.”

  He walked out, his heels clicking sharply against the floor. There was something about the way he acted that set Julie thinking. His worry about the Star business rang true enough. But could it all be an act? Or was he truly innocent?

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  “What now?” she asked Kitturian.

  “Let’s dig deeper. His room. Where is it?”

  “We can’t sneak into someone’s private space like that.”

  “Of course we can,” Kitturian said. “A detective who strictly follows rules is missing half the fun.”

  §

  Julie led Kitturian up to the second floor and took him to Zylas’ quarters, situated in the left wing of the mansion. However, an obstacle remained — the biometric lock. It gleamed on the door frame, its small screen waiting for the right face.

  “Locked,” Julie said.

  “Temporary obstacles,” Kitturian said. “Doors are meant to be unlocked.”

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a nifty little gadget with a sleek design, complete with a screen, buttons, and a retractable sensor.

  “This little friend of mine knows its way around locks.”

  He held the device steady against the scanner. Three electronic chirps later, the lock released with a metallic click.

  “Access granted,” he said. “Shall we move on?”

  “Um, Can I wait outside?”

  “Outside? What for? No, you’re my assistant—assist.”

  With a wary glance over her shoulder, Julie followed Kitturian into Zylas’ private quarters. The main living area was spacious and decorated in traditional Zylari fashion—smooth, curved edges, bold, geometric shapes, and vibrant colors.

  A large holographic screen stood against one wall, displaying various scrolling news feeds from Earth and planet Zylara. A plush, circular sofa sat in the center of the room, facing a small, low-lying table made of shimmering glass. On the walls hung intricate paintings of alien landscapes and portraits of famous Zylari figures.

  “Investigate trash bins and shredders,” Kitturian said. “Shreds of paper, scraps of thought—what people throw away often speaks louder than what they keep.”

  “Right,” Julie said.

  “Check for hidden compartments in usual places - under drawers, behind paintings, within bookshelves. People often hide important items in plain sight.”

  “Got it.”

  They launched into a meticulous search, every drawer and cupboard scrutinized. Julie found herself taking pleasure in the task. She sifted through the trash bins, but they were empty. Next, she checked the shredder, but it seemed to have been recently emptied as well. She opened drawers and scanned bookshelves, but found nothing of interest - no letters, no notes, no hidden compartments.

  “Ah-ha!” Kitturian said, holding up a small object that looked like a key fob.

  “What is it?”

  “A cyber skeleton key,” Kitturian said. “Overrides security, opens doors that should stay shut. Not your average hardware. It’s black market and highly illicit.”

  “Like the one you used to open the door?”

  “I need these for investigations. It's professional. For our friend, it’s anything but.”

  Julie’s heart gave an almost imperceptible jolt as the truth of it settled in. The proof was there—unadorned, irrefutable, and exactly what they needed.

  “YES! We did it,” she said. “All the pieces fit together, and now everyone’s going to know what we knew about Rose from the beginning.”

  “No solid proof yet,” Kitturian said. “Caution, always. The bedroom might tell us more.”

  The bedroom was as lavish as the living room, with a large, circular bed dominating the center of the room. Julie poked around, opening drawers and checking under piles of clothes, until she spotted something glinting under a shirt.

  Carefully, she pulled it out to reveal a small, oval-shaped object made of a bright silver metal. In the center was a glowing blue crystal, etched with intricate symbols and patterns. Julie paused, her eyes tracing the lines of the piece, each detail revealing a care and skill that left her in awe.

  “Look, Mr. Kitturian,” she said. “Look what I’ve found. Could it be the Star?”

  Kitturian studied the object with a keen eye.

  “Quite possibly,” he said.

  “Then that’s it! We’ve got him. We found the thief.”

  But Kitturian’s expression remained unchanged. He took the object, turned it over in his hands, and examined it from every angle.

  “A replica,” he concluded. “A very convincing one, I’ll admit. But still, a fake.”

  Julie’s spirit, which had soared with anticipation, now came crashing down to the dull thud of reality.

  “A replica?” she repeated, as if the next words might tell a different story.

  “Look at the details,” Kitturian said. “The crystal’s scratches, the imperfect metal joints. And the metal itself? Far too light to be authentic. These are the fingerprints of a skilled forger.”

  “Then Zylas isn’t the thief?”

  “Irrelevant question for now. But this forgery? Only one person could have done it. Time to pay him a visit.”