Chloe Clue a prologue

Chloe Clue has grown up believing that mysteries are meant to be solved and justice is worth fighting for – even when the fight gets ugly. On a blustery January night in 2026, she sits by her drafty bedroom window in Belfast, a leather-bound notebook open on her lap. By the soft glow of a desk lamp, Chloe flips through pages of scribbled clues, timelines, and names connected to the sprawling saga of Judge Blackheart and Rowan Mallon’s estate. Her breath fogs the glass as she gazes out into the darkness. In a few weeks, on 21 February, she’ll be at Mallon Hall in Donegal, in the thick of a real-life mystery weekend with fortunes and lives on the line. Despite the danger, a determined smile plays on her lips. This is what she’s been training for – not in any police academy, but in the school of hard truth and personal conviction. Chloe’s blood is up, and her keen mind is already piecing together how she’ll help ensure that the coming will-reading doesn’t end in yet another injustice.

Chloe’s path here began in childhood, under far more innocent circumstances. As a little girl, she adored detective novels and heroic tales of lawmen. She looked up to her own Uncle Les as the very model of a good detective – brave, straightforward, incorruptible. He would visit on holidays with a twinkle in his eye and regale her with sanitized stories of cases (omitting, of course, the moral compromises). To young Chloe, Uncle Les was practically a knight in a trench coat. She even made a silly game of her surname: she loved that “Clue” was part of her name, as if she were destined to unravel puzzles. But as Chloe grew into her teens, the illusion shattered. She learned from whispered family conversations and then from glaring headlines that her beloved uncle had been forced out of the police amid a corruption scandal. The hero detective fell hard – accused of evidence tampering and worse. At first the family tried to hide the ugly details from her, but Chloe was too smart for that. She scoured old newspapers and the internet and pieced together the truth: Leslie Clue helped frame innocent people, and the man pulling his strings was Judge Blackheart. It felt like one of her novels had come to life, only this time the detective was on the wrong side. Young Chloe’s heart broke imagining what her uncle must have done and why. But instead of turning cynical, she became fiercely resolved. If her uncle couldn’t be the hero, then she would.

By the time she reached university, Chloe chose to study law – not to defend the rich or prosecute the powerless, but to make things right that had gone so horribly wrong. In secret, she started attending meetings of a certain activist group in Dublin. This group was led by none other than Monty Mallon and Sebastian Swoon – names she knew all too well from her research. These men had been victims of Blackheart’s and Uncle Les’s misdeeds back in the 90s. Monty, especially, had lost over a decade of his life in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Chloe approached them humbly, almost apologetically, introducing herself only as “Chloe” at first. She feared if she said “Clue” they’d throw her out on her ear. But Monty and Sebastian were not vindictive; they were intrigued by this bright young student with fire in her eyes. Chloe volunteered to help their organisation, which was reviewing wrongful convictions and lobbying to reopen tainted cases. She spent late nights sorting through court transcripts, evidence boxes, anything the team could get hold of. It was grueling, emotionally draining work – every file a story of someone potentially wronged. Yet Chloe dove in with a passion. She had a knack for spotting inconsistencies others overlooked, and an encyclopedic memory for details. Sebastian half-jokingly nicknamed her “Hawkshaw” after a detective in an old pulp serial, given her talent for sniffing out clues. Eventually, trust grew and she revealed her full name. There were some raised eyebrows, to be sure – Clue? As in Inspector Clue? But Monty gave her a gentle smile and said, “Your uncle made mistakes, but he’s trying to fix them. We welcome your help, Miss Clue.” From then on, Chloe became an indispensable ally to Monty’s cause.

She also became the bridge between Les Clue and his former victims. It was Chloe who encouraged Uncle Les to meet Monty and Sebastian face-to-face after his years in the shadows. She brokered a cautious meeting in 2015 in a quiet corner of a Galway pub. Initially, the tension could be cut with a knife: her uncle stood there, hat in hand, trying to apologize; Sebastian glared daggers, remembering the betrayal. But Monty, ever the peacemaker, shook Les’s hand and said, “What’s done is done. Help us ensure it never happens again.” Chloe watched her uncle blink back tears of relief. That night, over pints of stout and halting conversation, a fragile alliance was formed. Chloe felt proud beyond measure – she had helped this happen. She was becoming a behind-the-scenes detective in her own right, solving the knottiest problem of all: how to patch up a broken man and the people he broke.

All the while, Chloe honed her own investigative skills. She devoured everything from Sherlock Holmes stories to legal case studies. By her early twenties, she’d assisted in quietly reviewing dozens of dubious convictions. In one case, she personally tracked down a retired court clerk living in Wicklow who had witnessed Judge Blackheart accepting a bribe back in 2002. Chloe spent hours gently coaxing information out of the nervous woman, finally securing a written affidavit. That document became a small but crucial piece of the mountain of evidence piling up against Blackheart. When Tina Tout’s media team came sniffing around for their documentary, it was Chloe who anonymously slipped them copies of key records (through a secure dead-drop online). She played the game carefully, staying in the shadows, just like her uncle taught her – only this time for the side of justice.

Chloe’s dual identities – diligent law student by day, clandestine truth-hunter by night – converged as Blackheart’s day of reckoning approached. She stood proudly beside Monty and Sebastian at rallies and press conferences, quietly offering facts or a quick whisper of advice when reporters’ questions got tricky. Over time, the Mallon-Swoon activist network became a kind of extended family to her. And speaking of family: Chloe never gave up on Uncle Les. In fact, it was largely her unwavering faith that convinced Les to finally come forward. She remembers a chilly night just a few weeks ago: she and Les sat in his tiny flat poring over his secret journal – pages and pages of notes on Blackheart’s crimes. Les’s hands trembled as he considered handing it all to the authorities. He expressed fears: What if no one believes me? What if Blackheart comes after our family? Chloe put a hand on his and said firmly, “We stand together. I believe you. Monty and Sebastian do too. Blackheart won’t dare hurt us with all eyes on him now. It’s time, Uncle.” In that moment, she saw the last walls of Les’s hesitation crumble. He agreed to testify and to leak the journal. He even managed a wry grin and said, “You know, you remind me a bit of myself when I was young – only braver and cleverer.” Chloe felt a lump in her throat at that. Coming from Les, it was high praise indeed.

Now, the stage is nearly set at Mallon Hall. Chloe has never been to the old estate before, but she’s heard plenty about it. Rowan Mallon – Monty’s late brother – was by all accounts a fascinating man: a world traveler, maybe a treasure hunter, with a mischievous streak. His death late last year was sudden and shrouded in mystery. Some whisper he may have been murdered – a notion Chloe doesn’t dismiss lightly. After all, Rowan’s demise conveniently opened the door for Blackheart’s return. Could Blackheart have had a hand in it from afar? Improbable, but Chloe has learned never to underestimate the judge’s reach. It’s a question nagging at her, one she intends to investigate further when time allows. For now, the bigger mystery is Rowan’s will. Why on earth did Rowan name Blackheart – the very man who stole Mallon Hall from the family years ago – as executor? Monty has his theories; Sebastian calls it a cosmic joke. Chloe has a theory of her own: Perhaps Rowan Mallon knew exactly what he was doing. Perhaps by naming Blackheart, Rowan ensured the villain would step out of the shadows back into the light, where everyone from law enforcement to journalists to vengeful victims would be waiting. Set a thief to catch a thief, as the old saying goes. It’s risky, but brilliant if true. Chloe can’t shake the feeling that Rowan has left clues of his own to be discovered at this will reading – clues that might lead to Montezuma’s lost gold, or to his killer if foul play occurred, or simply to the truth of his life’s adventures. And who better to pick up those clues than a young sleuth with the surname Clue?

Chloe closes her notebook and tucks it securely into her satchel alongside a compact flashlight, a pocket magnifier, and her tablet device loaded with scanned archives. She half-smiles at how stereotypical it all is – she might as well be Nancy Drew setting off to solve The Secret of Mallon Hall. A pulp fiction adventure come to life. But this is no child’s game. There are real stakes: a room full of suspects (and each with their own agenda), a rumored fortune that could turn saints into sinners, and a murderer potentially lurking in their midst if Rowan didn’t die naturally. Chloe double-checks that a small first-aid kit is packed (ever prepared, she’s learned from Sebastian that activism teaches you to be ready for anything, even a scuffle or accident). In another pocket is her mobile phone; on speed dial she has Inspector Meera Singh – a younger officer in Donegal who has quietly agreed to be Chloe’s contact with the local Gardaí if things go sideways. Because Chloe is not so naive as to assume the night will pass without incident. Something is going to happen – she can feel it, like electricity in the air. Blackheart’s presence is a provocation in itself. Monty and Sebastian are planning some sort of public confrontation, she suspects. And others who will be at Mallon Hall – the Mallon relatives, Rowan’s former partners, creditors, even a mysterious group of nuns and mobsters (if rumors about attendees are true) – all combine into a volatile mix. It’s the perfect setting for chaos... or for the truth to finally explode into the open, or both.

For Chloe, the coming weekend will test everything she’s learned. She’s nervous but exhilarated. In quiet moments, she admits to herself that she feels the ghost of that little girl who hero-worshipped her uncle – except now she has tempered admiration with knowledge. Uncle Les is not perfect, but he’s fighting to make amends. In her eyes, that actually makes him more of a hero than the infallible lawman she imagined as a child. And if Les can find redemption, maybe the world can find justice in this case too. Chloe intends to see that it does. She has already mapped out her role for the night of the will reading: she’ll play the polite, observant young assistant, staying on the sidelines, asking innocuous questions here and there as appropriate. Most will underestimate her – a slip of a law graduate, probably just there to take notes or pour tea. Good. That gives her the freedom to move unnoticed, to listen and watch. Chloe is exceptionally good at watching. She notices the small things – a tremor in a hand, a quick exchanged glance, a door left ajar. And she writes everything down in that trusty notebook of hers. If someone lies, if someone sneaks off somewhere they shouldn’t, if a vital document is “misplaced” when the lights flicker – Chloe will catch it. She’s made it something of a personal challenge to solve whatever mysteries the night presents before anyone else does. It’s not ego, but rather a tribute: a way to honour the Montys and Sebastians and Leses and Rowans who have fought this battle for so long. If she, Chloe Clue, can crack the case – be it uncovering Blackheart’s endgame or finding Montezuma’s Gold or unmasking a murderer – perhaps it will bring them all one step closer to closure.

And Chloe suspects there will be a murderer to unmask. She prays she’s wrong, but the tension among these players is high enough to snap a rope (or launch a bullet). There are too many vendettas coming to a head under one roof. Blackheart himself is in potential peril; more than a few attendees might like to see him dead before he can cheat them. Conversely, Blackheart is capable of anything if he feels cornered – Chloe hasn’t forgotten that. Her hand subconsciously brushes the pepper spray in her coat pocket. She hopes never to need it, but it’s there. Preparedness is key.

On her desk lies a letter that arrived this morning – an invitation of sorts. It’s from the solicitor handling Rowan’s estate (Mr. Hugh Dunnit, amusingly enough), formally inviting Chloe to Mallon Hall for the weekend in her capacity as an aide to the Mallon family’s legal team. Monty had insisted she come along as his “research assistant,” which the solicitor agreed to. She’s officially on the guest list, which means she won’t have to sneak in. That’s a relief. She hates having to waste energy on subterfuge when she’d rather be observing the main action. No, she will be right there in the drawing room when Blackheart opens that will – watching everyone’s faces as the lights glow and secrets spill.

Chloe carefully folds the invitation into her notebook. This is her ticket to the heart of the storm. She stands and catches her reflection in the windowpane: a slim woman in her mid-twenties with intense eyes, a knit sweater pulled tight for warmth. She doesn’t look like a hard-boiled detective from a noir novel, but that’s part of her advantage. People underestimate the quiet ones. Chloe intends to use that to full effect.

Before turning in for the night, she sends out a few text messages – quick status checks. One to Monty: “All set for Mallon Hall. I’ll bring the case files and see you there Friday.” (He replies with a thumbs-up emoji and “Safe travels. And thanks.”) One to Uncle Les: “Hope you’re holding up okay. Call me if you need anything – even just to talk.” (He replies almost immediately: “I’m fine, love. Just anxious. See you soon. Proud of you.” The words make her heart swell. He rarely expresses pride, but she knows he means it.) And one more message, to an unknown number that she’s labelled TT – Tina Tout – “Keep Saturday free.” It’s their code meaning Tina’s crew should be ready for breaking news from the will reading. Tina responds with a simple “👍”. Everything is in place.

Chloe finally crawls into bed, but sleep doesn’t come easily. She lies in the dark, mind churning through possibilities and contingencies. In just a short time, Mallon Hall will be teeming with plots and subplots: hidden identities, old grudges, maybe even secret maps to treasure. It sounds like the climax of a pulp fiction novel, and indeed Chloe feels like she’s a character in one. But this is reality, and she’s determined to guide it to a just conclusion. If Blackheart thinks he can bully everyone and walk away with Rowan’s fortune, he’s got another thing coming. If someone in that house thinks they can commit a crime under the cover of confusion, Chloe will shine a light on it. And if there are puzzles left by Rowan (wouldn’t that be just like the adventurous old codger), she’s intent on solving them.

In the stillness, Chloe remembers something Rowan Mallon himself once said at a small charity event she attended (Rowan had been benefiting Monty’s organisation quietly). He was an elderly man with lively eyes, and he quipped to the crowd, “When I go, I promise I won’t make it easy for anyone to get my gold. Where’s the fun in that?” At the time, people chuckled, thinking it a joke. Now those words take on a more cryptic tone. Chloe smirks to herself. Challenge accepted, Mr. Mallon, she thinks. I’ll find your gold, and I’ll make sure it ends up in the right hands.

With that resolute thought, Chloe Clue finally closes her eyes. She dreams of twisting corridors and secret passageways, of clues hidden in paintings and parlour games with deadly stakes. Whether these are premonitions or just the product of an overactive imagination, only time will tell. But one thing is certain: Chloe will enter Mallon Hall armed not with weapons or authority, but with her wits, her courage, and her integrity. In a world full of seasoned schemers and dangerous villains, this young amateur may be the unexpected ace in the hole. If all goes well, by the time the clock strikes midnight on 21 February, the truth will have been laid bare – Montezuma’s treasure, Rowan’s secrets, Blackheart’s crimes and all – and Chloe Clue will have proven herself a detective in her own right, the worthy heir to her family’s name. The final countdown to the Montezuma mystery has begun, and Chloe is ready to play her part to the end.