by Brown, Tara
I grabbed the USB and stuffed it and my phone into my pocket before leaving with my trusty sunglasses on.
Several guards were posted outside the door, men and women my father trusted utterly. “I need to go see my brother.”
They nodded as a team, and one of the ladies with a stoic expression walked with me down the hall to the private elevator. She took me to the underground parking where a black SUV with tinted windows was waiting with two more guards.
The drive over was silent. Awkward. I wondered what the guards thought of everything going on but didn’t ask.
They parked in the back, where we were met by more guards. I dreaded how long this might go on for.
My father’s personal assistant met us at the door. “Ophelia, I’m so sorry.” She hugged me, though we had spoken to each other only a handful of times, and I couldn’t recall if her name was Estella or Stella.
“Thank you.” I hugged back and let her lead me inside. The guard that had been with me since the hotel room stayed with me. She was intense, but I assumed that also meant she was good at her job.
“How are you holding up?” Estella asked. “Laertes seems like he’s doing all right.”
“I don’t think it’s hit either of us,” I offered, not knowing what else to say.
“Of course.” She nodded and left it at that. She was polite, but I got the sense that she was devastated. Her eyes were swollen and puffy. Her nose red. She was gripping her hands together tightly, the way I did, but kept relaxing them as if she was reminding herself to.
Had Estella been more than an assistant to my father?
We walked out of the elevator and turned right toward Laertes’ office. She walked past it and led me to my father’s. Seeing his chair and massive desk choked me up. I held my breath, avoiding what would surely be traces of his cologne and cigars.
“Thank you, Stella,” Laertes said, correcting me unknowingly. I was grateful I hadn’t called her Estella aloud.
“I’ll leave you two.” She closed the door, leaving the guard to stand watch right outside.
“I have something to show you,” Laertes didn’t seem all right. Stella hadn’t inspected close enough. His hands trembled and his lower lip quivered a little. There was nervous energy bouncing off him. “When I came in this morning to start to deal with the process of our parents dying,” his voice wavered, “I found the strangest thing on Dad’s desk.” He’d never called our father “Dad.” It was something Lucas would call his father or how Paige described hers. Ours was always “Father.” He hovered at the desk, moving at the computer seemingly avoiding the chair.
I gasped for air, no longer able to hold my breath. The smell of my father was everywhere. Pungent and warm as if he was still alive. I closed my eyes, listening to the jumpy movements of my brother, and while surrounded by the scent of my father, I could tell myself he was alive. For just a second.
Laertes continued to move about, but the sound came closer.
I opened my eyes as he wrapped himself around me, sobbing silently. He collapsed on me, falling to his knees and burying his face in my stomach. He heaved and trembled with the worst kind of grief, likely a buildup of pain and sorrow that he had never dealt with. His fingers bit into my waist as he clung to me for dear life. He muttered inaudible words, ramblings, maybe regrets. I caught something, “I can’t do this,” as he continued to wail.
My fingers naturally found a home on his head, stroking as if he were one of Lucas’ dogs.
We stayed this way for a long time until he stopped rambling and finally settled. He took a deep breath and nodded against me. “I’m sorry.”
I sunk down to my knees and wrapped myself in his arms. “It’s going to be okay,” I remembered something from group therapy. “We just have to take this one day at a time and tackle small things.”
“I’m scared,” he admitted.
“There’s nothing else they can take from us that we haven’t already lost.”
He pulled me back. “We have each other.”
“And we always will.” I sounded wise, but it was Dr. Zamora who spoke through me. “Now, what did you find?”
“Right.” He got up and walked back to the desk. “I came in this morning, and there was a piece of paper. It said ‘Dupree.’ I picked it up and turned it over, and there was this.” He held up a small piece of white paper with a dog smoking a cigar drawn on it. The artwork wasn’t skillful, but it was apparent the dog was Romeo. “Father couldn’t have known we knew about King Hamlet, so I entered this name”—he pointed at the word “Dupree”—“into the search on the computer and found this.”
He clicked and I got up to walk around the massive desk. Unlike Laertes, I could sit in the chair. It was almost a hug from my father. I stared at the computer screen for a moment, confused by the sentence, “Ceded Refinish Tumor Not Purr.”
“It’s an anagram,” Laertes said as he typed. “Find Coroner Dupree Trust Him.” He keyed the words next to Father’s sentence.
“Oh.” I was shocked at how cool both my brother and father were.
“It took me a couple of hours to figure out it was an anagram. I thought it was some coded password. Father was much smarter than I am.”
“Clearly, he knew you were smarter than you give yourself credit for.” I nudged Laertes. “I don’t even know what an anagram is. Did you call?” I purposefully left out the name Dupree as Laertes had been doing. I didn’t know if we were being watched or what.
“No, I waited for you.”
“Did you send Lucas a message to tell him about this?”
“No.” His tone remained a little bitter regarding Lucas.
“Okay, I will. But let’s call from your burner.”
“On the roof?” Laertes asked.
“Okay.” I stood up as he closed and locked the computer down. He took the paper and pocketed it. He clearly trusted no one.
The guard stayed with us to the roof but Laertes asked her to remain at the door while we made the call.
“Hello?” a man answered cautiously on speakerphone as my brother and I huddled around the phone. The wind up here was refreshing, even though it was a muggy August.
“Is this Dr. Dupree?” Laertes asked quietly.
“Who are you?” he questioned without answering.
“Laertes Agard. My father left me a coded message to find you and trust you.”
“Not over the phone. Meet me in New York in two hours at the place your father and I first met.” He hung up quickly.
“That was strange,” I said, scowling. “Where the hell did he and Father first meet? How could we know that?”
“Stella will know.” Laertes turned and marched back to the door but paused halfway. He used his other phone to text a message. A couple of minutes later, Stella joined us on the roof.
“What can I do for you?” she asked as we walked back away from the guard.
“Our father met with a man named Andy Dupree, a doctor.” I watched her eyes as I said it. She flinched ever so slightly. “Where did they meet the first time?”
“Dr. Dupree. How do you know that name?” her voice wavered.
“Father left us a little treasure trail to find him. A drawing and an anagram.”
“So, you know what he believed happened?” Stella folded her arms over her chest.
“Do you?” I asked her.
Stella held her breath, visibly considering something before finally speaking, “Your father and I were in love. We had been for years. He was going to leave your mother, but he needed to catch her in her affair first. According to their prenup, it was the only way out without giving away half the company and a quarter of the fortune.”
I glanced at Laertes who nodded.
“Your mother’s family oversold their financial situation, an old family with blue blood and an extensive estate. What no one found out until it was too late was that the estate had several mortgages and the coffers were empty; they owed money everywhere.”
Laertes nodded again, apparently paying more attention to our entire lives than I was. “Father bailed them out more than once.”
“And Polly, your father, was the one who wrote the iron-clad prenup, ensuring everyone was protected, believing they each had their own interests to take care of. Which bit him in the ass. Unless Jane, your mother, died, broke serious laws and was convicted, or was caught having an affair, there was no way out.” Stella sighed. “His only saving grace was you kids. As each of you was born, he had his will and estate altered to split the family pie up evenly. Whether divorce or death, everyone in the family received an equal share, unless something happened to you all.”
My mother’s words clicked in my mind, creating a picture. “That’s why she was always trying to have me declared insane or convince me to kill myself?” I asked flatly, injured but also relieved that it all came down to cold, hard cash. She didn’t love me or hate me for personal reasons, it was money. “She could prove with a DNA test that you were Claudius’ son, and if I were unfit or dead, she would get it all. I bet her plan was to kill Father or frame him for breaking the law first, then dispose of us and get all the money to herself.”
“Holy fuck.” Laertes gasped. “That conniving bitch!”
“Clearly, your father never worked out that last part until the very end,” Stella added. “But it was too late for him.”
Laertes growled. “I wish she were alive, so I could kill her. No fucking wonder Horatio was willing to die as long as his hands were around her neck,” he seethed.
“Okay, calm down,” Stella said quietly. “There are always eyes and ears lurking about.” She put a hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Polly loved you both. A lot. He was a good man at heart, and though his focus was set on work and Jacobi business, he constantly worried about you two. And to answer your question, the first time he met Dr. Dupree was in New York City at a rickety old wooden bench in the Shakespeare Garden in Central Park.”
“Thank you.” Laertes hugged her weirdly comfortably. “And you should know, he loved you a lot. He never told me, but there was no mistaking the look on his face when he saw or spoke of you.”
I smiled politely, hoping she thought I noticed as well. Shamefully I hadn’t.
Chapter 19
The Shakespeare Garden was an almost perfect replica of an English country garden. The rickety bench was beautiful, a work of art. Made of knotty branches woven together in the shape of two seats facing each other.
Laertes and I sat on one side and left the other open in hopes Dr. Dupree would show.
“It’s despicable that Mother wanted to destroy us over money. Genuinely, she was no mother at all.”
I slipped my fingers into my brother’s and squeezed. I had nothing to offer his pity party. The news didn’t disgust or torment me. I found peace in her methods and madness. She was greedy. She was so focused on getting all the money and wealth that she didn’t see the things she was missing. She died with no love in her heart. And no one had love for her. I felt sorry for her more than I hated her. Not that I excused her cruelty but that she had lived such a pathetic life. It was wasted.
“I guess it explains why we never saw her family,” I changed the subject slightly.
“Father forbid them to contact us. They were paid handsomely to never darken our doorway again. And Mother had no time for them. They were poor.” Laertes scoffed.
“So many things make sense now,” I thought aloud. “Mother hated Paige because she knew Paige kept me going. She kept me alive. And Mother wanted me insane or dead. Killing Paige didn’t even work,” I said with a laugh. “Paige was so determined for me to know the truth of everything, she stayed.” I gave Laertes a look. “She’s been haunting me actively since this started. Leading me to the answers. Forcing me to wake up.”
“Lucas said the same of his father. And he wasn’t alone. At the funeral, Bernardo and Marcellus, King Hamlet’s favorite guards, were saying they saw the ghost too. He was wandering Elsinore. Dark lips and a pale complexion. I assumed it was someone trying to create a diversion.”
“I think it was the way this all happened. A dark and treacherous plot creates spirits with unfinished business.”
“Indeed,” Laertes agreed as a man walked up. The gardens were busy with people taking photos, so when it was apparent this was Dr. Dupree, Laertes and I stood. “Shall we?” Laertes nodded his head to the right.
“Certainly,” the older man muttered. We walked past the Swedish Marionette Theater and turned right, heading along the busy path. “How did he die?” Dr. Dupree asked as we passed an ice cream stand.
“Shot, not by Lucas Jacobi,” Laertes answered confidently. “We believe our mother is the guilty party.”
“And she died last night as well?” he sounded stunned.
“She burned to death in a fire she lit trying to kill the rest of us. She tried to lure us so she could shoot and leave us to burn in the house. Leaving her the only person left to claim the inheritance and estate.”
Dr. Dupree wrinkled his nose. “She tried to kill her own children. What a monster.”
“She didn’t expect O and I would run instead of fight, or that our friend Horatio would enter the burning part of the house to kill her himself. She was clever but, in the end, too greedy to properly calculate her plan.”
“I see.” Dr. Dupree raised his bushy eyebrows. “Well, I’m sorry for the loss of your father. He was a better man than I expected.”
I grinned at the comment, understanding it completely.
“I assume you’re aware of the king’s death and your father’s thoughts.” Dr. Dupree was careful with us.
“We know about the methyl stuff that he inhaled and died, and that’s how Romeo died, too,” I added.
“Methyl iodide. It’s a liquid compound used as a fertilizer. Quite toxic, contrary to what the FDA and agricultural affairs ministers would say. It’s used in labs to create cancer in rats for testing drugs.”
“Disgusting,” I gasped.
“Indeed,” he agreed as we strolled casually, contrary to our in-depth conversation. “King Hamlet inhaled a modified version of it, tasteless and odorless. Though your father asked that I cease further investigation into the matter, I’ve managed to remake the toxin and determined it had to have been in his cigar. As he lit it and inhaled, the poison activated with the heat and caused a massive stroke-like effect. I’m assuming Romeo was on his lap, which I understand he was frequently.”
“All the time. That dog was King Hamlet’s favorite, though I always found him to be a menace,” Laertes grumbled, making me smile. “King Hamlet frequently shared his scotch and his cigars with the dog. Romeo loved it when he blew the smoke in his mouth.”
“And that would have done it.”
“Is there any way to prove who did it? Who poisoned him?” I asked.
“No. Not unless you could track where the cigar came from, but even then—”
“Could you make another one, just like it?” Laertes asked.
Dr. Dupree scowled. “Certainly, but why would—?”
“We believe our mother and Claudius Jacobi were the ones who murdered King Hamlet. Which would make sense now that we know what my mother was after. Lucas Jacobi has a plan, and he was hoping to use the same thing that killed his father to trick his uncle into confessing. This cigar might bring about justice.”
“How vile.” Dr. Dupree visibly didn’t condone it. But he agreed to it. “I can make you one, and after that I never want to hear from anyone in New Denmark again.”
“Thank you!” Laertes smiled politely though there was no feeling in it at all. He lifted his phone, texting. “This is the brand of cigar the king smoked. And I will pick it up tonight if possible, from this address. You don’t have to be there, just leave it in the mailbox in a plastic baggie.”
“Like a proper drug deal,” Dr. Dupree lamented. “Fine.” He gave me a soft smile. “Take care.” He walked away from us, and I wasn’t convinced he w
as going to do what Laertes had asked.
“When did Lucas tell you about this plan?” I asked quietly.
“He mentioned it when you were in the shower.” He glanced at me. “I know you two are hiding a relationship, and now that he’s my cousin, I think it’s high time I get past the feelings I have for him.”
“Laertes—”
“No, I’m not giving you my blessing. Maybe when this is all over, and he’s not on the verge of being arrested. I’m just not standing in your way. You’re an adult now. It’s time for you to start acting like one. And as Father would have said, I hope you make a wise choice.” He offered me his arm.
I took it, disliking his tone, or that he felt he could lecture me on wise choices as he was asking a coroner to make a poisoned cigar.
But as the remaining members of our family, I understood the need to keep each other safe.
We were all each other had left.
Chapter 20
I walked carefully up the familiar old steps of the run-down house in the dodgy part of the city by the train tracks. Madame Esmeralda and I had known each other a long time, and this was the first visit where I’d brought armed guards. I usually came with Paige and we snuck here.
The old woman greeted me at the door with a grimace. “They can wait outside,” Madame Esmeralda snarled.
“It’s fine,” I said, but the guard who had been with me all day disagreed. She sighed deeply and walked past Madame Esmeralda to inspect the house.
“What does she think she’s doing?” the psychic snapped.
“Making sure it’s safe inside,” I explained.
“Safe? For you or me?”
“Both,” I lied.
“Hmph,” she grumbled and walked in after the guard who was back in a moment.
“All clear,” she said with a bit of expression, amusement I expected. No one understood my love of the crotchety old woman. But she had been guiding me since we met at a fair Laertes took me to when I was eleven. Eight years of fortunes and warnings. I hadn’t listened to a few and paid the price. I tried to be smarter with her advice now. She was the other reason I was still here. Sometimes she was the difference between me surviving my mother or not.
