Chapter 1

At the age of 32, Professor Altava was the youngest head of faculty Rhineston University had ever seen. Her History of Art course (with a focus on Contemporary Photography) was always oversubscribed. Although many applied to try and confirm for themselves the rumours that she could do a perfect jumping back hook kick, had ridden her motorcycle over Tower Bridge as it was opening in pursuit of a serial bank robber and was a personal acquaintance of the famous Professor Layton himself; few students ever missed her lectures once they saw the passion and conviction with which she taught. It was as if her adoration of photography was contagious. As a result, the detail and quality of the essays that her students produced far surpassed those of the other professors' pupils. Her students went on to become renowned Art Critics in London's most prestigious newspapers and culture magazines or to work in famous art museums all over the world.

However, Professor Emmy Altava was not one of the most well known academics in London for her teaching skills. Like her former employer, Professor Hershel Layton, she had been brought into the public eye for the countless number of cases she had solved on behalf of Scotland Yard. It was as a result of one particularly successful case that Emmy found herself greeted by a bouquet of flowers and a card when she entered her office one warm spring afternoon. The card was a photograph of a London skyline taken from Hammersmith Bridge at sunrise. On the back it read:

"Dear Professor Altava,

I am writing to express my profound thanks for helping me with the incident involving my mother, the toaster and that revolver. I am eternally grateful.

Your admiring and attentive student,

Poppy Isenshire"

Emmy smiled to herself and flipped over the card. She took out a red pen and circled the sun, a small bird in the corner of the photo and one of the pillars on the bridge's decorative railings. She took a picture of her handiwork with the polaroid camera she kept in her office and wrote on the back:

"Dear Poppy,

It was my pleasure. Thank you for the gift and the card. The flowers were wonderful too."

Poppy was one of the may people who were aware of Emmy's fondness for puzzles. She had probably edited her own photo partly to show off to her professor, partly as a token of her appreciation. It was a seamlessly well-executed job too. If it hadn't been for the fact that the sun was peeping over the Fulham side of the Thames rather than the Barnes side, Emmy may never have noticed. Yet there were a few boat crews on the water that is typical only dawn (not dusk), and the shadows of the crewmembers and the rest of the scene matched, proving that it was the sun that was tampered with, not the boats. The bird was simple. It was a Slovenian Snowjay, a breed of bird that is not native to or known to migrate anywhere near England. In fact, Emmy recognised that Poppy had taken this particular image from the winning entry of the latest London National Art Museum Photography Award.

Emmy found the final change to the photo rather entertaining. A rumour had spread that one of the pillars of Hammersmith Bridge had been damaged when Emmy missed the leg of a criminal she was pursuing and had low side kicked the bridge instead. Poppy had mended the bridge in her photo in order to see if it was true or not. One would only notice the lack of a crack in the side of a bridge if one had put it there oneself. Emmy smiled to herself, fondly remembering the satisfying clunk she heard when the plaster fell off.

She let the ink on the Polaroid dry and then attached the picture to one of Poppy's essays with a paperclip. She then removed her yellow lecturing blazer and slipped on her usual comfortable trench coat. Her title of Head of Humanities required her to dress somewhat "formally and professionally" when teaching, yet she hated formal clothing. You need the ability to move your arms to be expressive when teaching (not to mention to be of any use in the surprisingly likely event of running after and/or beating up bad guys in the middle of a lecture.) The padded blazer she had to wear was simply too restrictive and she relished the sense of freedom she felt whenever she was reunited with her signature yellow trench coat.

Emmy packed up her bag with her camera, notebook and a few ungraded papers and rode back to her apartment on her motorbike. As she entered she felt the wave of relief one always experiences after returning home from a long day's work. The walls of her living room, completely hidden by the photographs and film she had pinned up, were a sight for sore eyes. She gazed hat her old red sofa, excited to finally be able to curl up on it and read the latest martial arts or photography magazine; when she noticed a letter on the antique coffee table in front. Mrs Carpenter, Emmy's cleaner, always left letters for her there when they arrived. She noticed the delicate, slanted handwriting of her close friend, Flora Reinhold, on the address.

After Emmy left Professor Layton's employment, she remained in contact with him. Eventually, they were able to reconstruct their friendship, however, Emmy felt that she could never return to being his assistant after what she had done. Over the years, Hershel Layton adopted the role of Emmy's unofficial mentor and Flora took to Emmy instantly upon their meeting, several months after the case of the Curious Village. She was in need of a female role model and, as a strong, independent woman, Emmy fit the bill perfectly. Emmy had seen Flora mature over the years, develop into an elegant young woman of 20 and one of Gressenheller University's top mechanics students. News from Flora was always the highlight of her day. Emmy picked up the envelope and opened it enthusiastically, she sat down as she read the contents of the letter.

"My Dear Emmy" it read,

"I am writing to you because I don't know who else to turn to. The Professor and Luke are off in Sri Lanka exploring some legends relating to a cursed statue, and from experience, I think we can both testify that Scotland Yard are… shall we say… not the most competent of institutions when it comes to solving mysteries.

"I need to enlist your help involving the theft of a project of mine. Recently, I have been fascinated by the study of alchemy in relation to mechanics. This particular contraption was intended to turn any common metal into gold. Luckily, it was only in its first prototype phase when it was stolen. However, the amount of information one can gain about my research from studying the machine is vast. Who knows what the consequences could be if it got into the wrong hands? All I know is that I don't desire to be the cause of an evil organisation acquiring unlimited wealth.

"My apologies for intruding on your busy schedule, but I would like to meet with you to discuss my unfortunate predicament further. Could you possibly meet me at the lighthouse café in Covent Garden today at 6 pm? I'll be sitting in the back, beside the portrait of the old man holding a garden gnome. I look forward to seeing you; it's been so long.

Yours truly,

Flora Reinhold"