Every Thursday, Martha’s book club gathered in her sunlit parlor, debating mysteries over slices of lemon cake and cups of strong tea. They prided themselves on unraveling the trickiest of plots—but nothing prepared them for a real-life whodunit.
When the community’s prized Picasso replica vanished from the Sunny Acres cultural hall, chaos erupted. Speculation ran wild, but Martha had no patience for gossip. She slammed her cane against the floor. “This isn’t fiction—we’re solving it!”
Her fellow club members—an ex-lawyer with a sharp memory, a retired magician skilled in sleight of hand, and a librarian whose sarcasm was only rivaled by her vast knowledge—nodded in agreement. The hunt was on.
They scoured the retirement village, questioning anyone who might have seen something unusual. The first break came when they discovered tiny paint chips near the golf course. Not long after, they spotted a single muddy boot print outside the security guard’s office. Suspicion fell on him instantly—too instantly, Martha thought. “It’s too neat,” she muttered. “Like a plot twist you see coming a mile away.”
Sure enough, a little digging into security records revealed inconsistencies. The guard had an alibi, but someone wanted him blamed. That’s when Martha’s magician friend had an idea. “We need a distraction,” he said, grinning.
Enter the prune juice cocktails. At the next community social, the club orchestrated a commotion at the refreshment table, diverting attention just long enough for them to slip into the art appraiser’s office. And there it was—a section of wall that didn’t quite match the rest. With a firm push, the hidden panel creaked open, revealing the stolen Picasso replica tucked away inside.
At their celebratory tea, Martha took a slow sip and smirked. “Age sharpens the mind, you know.”
The mayor, shaking his head in amused disbelief, chuckled. “Never underestimate Thursdays.”