Chapter 1

My Mom said I was born to be a detective. I’m a police detective intern at one of the police stations in Queens, New York. I knew everything there is to know about how to solve a mystery. I had helped my mentor, Chuck, with countless mysteries; including some missing diamonds even a murder. But this was one that even, I, the ingenious Isabella Montague could not figure out. And I never had heard of one that came so close to my heart.

Before you read this story, there’s something you should know abut my grandfather, he’s filthy rich. He was a main investor when Microsoft first became a company and he made his fortune off of that. Now he lives in a penthouse in Manhattan. He is an avid theatergoer and as his only grandkid, I’m the love of his life. He lives with his best friend (and his butler), Maurice. Maurice was a pretty nice guy, but he seemed tense over the past year. Grandpa had an ex wife, my grandma Vivian, who lived in Chicago. I lived with my mom and dad, two of the top attorneys in the state. I attended Fordham prep school in the Bronx. And finally, there was my Uncle Jack who was a cardiologist living in Cincinnati. Jack had married a Muslim woman named Aadila. Grandpa and Grandma hated Jack for marrying outside of Christianity.

This was our very first Thanksgiving all together. My parents had finally convinced Jack, and Vivian to fly in. I thought it was a crazy idea, but it was something my parents had wanted for a long time. Fortunately, Aadila had to stay home because her mother was ill. I didn’t know what would have happened if he had brought her. We all agreed to meet at Grandpa’s apartment and my mom would bring over the food. When we were sitting down, Grandpa and Grandma wanted to be as far away from each other as possible, but they wanted more to be far away from Jack, so they ended up sitting next to each other, across from Jack. I sat in between my parents. First, we said grace, then Mom carved the turkey and we could finally eat. Mom tried helplessly to bring conversation to the table, but since Jack, Grandpa, and Grandma were in such bad moods, they answered every question with phrases like “Yes,” “No, and “Of course!” At the end of the meal, Dad said that we had to say things we were thankful for. He started by saying he was thankful for good health and happiness. I said I was thankful for the school I went to, my police detective internship, and just being with the family. Mom said for having food to eat, a roof over our heads, and a family to love. Then it was Grandpa’s turn. He said the worst possible thing he could have said.

“I am thankful for having the common sense to be faithful to my religion and my people.”

The rest of the conversation went something like this:

JACK: “Well at least my relationship is still going strong!”

GRANDPA: “It won’t last long.”

JACK: “Your marriage didn’t last long because you both are ignorant bastards!”

MOM: “Jack, not in front of Sydney!”

GRANDMA: “Your father’s being a bastard is no question, but how dare you insult your own mother!”

DAD: “Mom, sit down. You, too Dad!”

GRANDPA: “You are a slime filled wretch and a traitor to your people!”

JACK: “You both are stuck up morons and there’s nothing you can say that will change that!”

That’s when food started flying. Somewhere in the midst of this nightmare, Maurice yelled, “QUIET!” Then, everybody fell silent and Maurice began clearing the table. After the meal, Dad, Jack, and Grandpa watched a game on TV in silence. Mom read a book and I Grandma knitted. I wrote in my diary about the meal. Finally, we had to drive home. My parents and I drove Jack to the airport and then we went home. The next morning, I woke up to my mother on the phone. She had a stern look on her face. She shushed me. Then she got off the phone and whispered in Dad’s ear. Then he went up to his room and said nothing. Then she told me, “Your grandfather is dead.”