by Lotta Smith
Each of the three kids’ rooms shared a long balcony and interconnected with each other. The kids could visit each other’s room by using not just the door, but the balcony. With the curtain open, what’s happening in each room was visible from the balcony.
The baby of the McCambridges went on. “I was going to say hi to her, but she went out of Wolffy’s room without even turning on the lights. I knew something was wrong, so I went out of my room and into the corridor, still on the phone with Ryan, and there was no sign of her. As I walked further and approached the grand staircase, I saw Glam lying hurt. And I thought Willow must have pushed her. As you already know, the relationship between Glam and Willow was not amicable, and I knew Willow detested Glam. I didn’t know what to do, so I just went back to my room and out on the balcony. I was standing there like an idiot, even after hanging up with Ryan until Wolffy came knocking on my door.”
“Just to be sure, your brother’s room was dark with the lights off, am I correct?” Rowling asked.
“Yes. Both Whitney and Wolffy were downstairs, and the lights were off,” Wyatt replied.
“Then how did you know it was Willow who came into Wolffy’s room?”
“That’s because…” Wyatt knitted his eyebrows as if he was in deep thought. “That’s because when the door opened, light came in from the corridor and I saw the silhouette of Willow’s uniform, with the long skirt and the apron with the frills around the shoulders… at least, I think I saw it.”
“Did you see the person’s face?” Rowling dug in.
“No. The lights were behind her, and I couldn’t see her face.” Wyatt shook his head.
“Ah-ha!” Rowling grinned.
“What, ah-ha?” I asked. Perhaps I was experiencing some lingering damage following a temporary oxygen deprivation. I was getting confused.
“I’m talking about a possibility in which he saw someone else in Willow’s maid uniform, someone who can pass as a double of Willow, with similar height and body shape.”
“I see.” I nodded.
“Oh,” Wyatt gasped.
“Ah-ha!” Giselle and Jackie clapped their hands.
“Willow, do you have extra uniforms?” Rowling asked.
“Yes, I have three uniforms stashed in the locker in the maid’s room downstairs,” Willow said earnestly.
“How about the shoes? Do you have extra pairs of the same shoes?” Rowling continued.
“Yes. I have two extra pairs of the same shoes in the locker.”
“Thank you.” Then, Rowling turned on his heels and started to walk toward Whitney McCambridge and her friends. Looking one of the girls square in the eyes, he said, “Do you want to explain what happened yourself?”
“Oh my God… Is it her, seriously?” Jackie gasped.
“But why?” Giselle widened her eyes.
And the person he was talking to was someone I had the least suspicion of.
CHAPTER 8
“You happen to be the only person here who can fit into Willow’s uniform. Can you tell me what happened? Otherwise, the detectives here will have to arrest Willow,” Rick Rowling said matter-of-factly.
The girl averted her eyes from Rowling once, but then she looked into his eyes. “I didn’t mean to harm Madame Giselle, much less kill her.” It was Stacy Wilcox who responded to Rowling, admitting to the allegation. “I’m the one who wore Willow’s uniform.”
“No, Stacy! You can’t talk before you get lawyered up!” Whitney and Wendy Ruben almost shrieked in unison.
“Stacy…” Wilfred and Wilma-Diane McCambridge scurried to her.
“Mr. and Mrs. McCambridge, thank you for all your support,” Stacy said in a trembling voice, “but I can’t put blame on an innocent stranger anymore. I’m going to come clean and tell them everything.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Stacy nodded in reply to Wilfred’s question.
“Excuse me, but were all of you…?” Rowling’s expression was something in-between surprise and confusion.
“Yes, we knew what she did, and we were covering up for her,” Wilfred admitted.
“Are you saying you covered up for the culprit who murdered your mother?” Captain DeLaurentis shot back.
“Oh…” Giselle clutched on her chest, totally blanched.
“So, you loathed my sister your entire life. I was right.” Miranda Wolff snorted triumphantly.
The ghost of Giselle suddenly developed a bluish white flare around herself, which sparkled and pulsated menacingly, like she was going to cause some kind of serious damage, such as an apocalypse. I glanced up at the chandelier, which was swinging oh-so-violently, like it was threatening to collapse—and considering that she almost crushed me even without the flare, I could only imagine what she was capable of with it. My imagination didn’t go to happily ever after.
“Madame Giselle, please…,” I wanted to say, “calm down,” but it dawned on me, if I was at the receiving end of the phrase, I would get super outraged. So I shut up.
But—
“Captain, the reason we covered up for Stacy is because I thought my mother would forgive us if I communicated with her about the why and wherefore,” Wilfred said. “Besides, we all loved her beyond everything.”
“What is it all about?” Rowling asked, raising one eyebrow.
After taking a deep breath, as if he was collecting courage, Wilfred said, “Actually, Stacy happens to be my daughter.”
“Excuse me?” Giselle and Miranda said in unison, and their mirror-image reaction reminded me that they were actually genetically related sisters.
“I was in a serious relationship with another woman before marrying Wilma-Diane,” Wilfred confessed.
According to him, he met a girl named Rose Bruns at a fundraiser. Back then, Wilfred had just joined the family business after obtaining his MBA, and Rose was still in college. Rose was pretty, easygoing, and fun to be around. They fell in love with each other instantly.
Wilfred wanted to marry Rose, but both of his parents said no. At that time, McCambridge Steel was exhausted following excessive competitions against foreign companies, and they were adamant that Wilfred marry Wilma-Diane, a banker’s daughter, to make it easy to obtain the bank’s funding.
“My father said I could keep Rose as a mistress as long as I married Wilma-Diane and fulfilled my duty, but my mother had a different opinion. She told me to ditch everything—home, the company, family heritage, and everything—if I were to choose Rose over family… Of course, she had every right to tell me so. I was adopted to become a great successor of McCambridge Steel, and if I couldn’t fulfill my obligation, I should lose my right to be a McCambridge. The rule was simple and clear. I thought I could ditch everything. I could ditch my home, the company, and money…, but I couldn’t. I thought I could ditch everything, but I just couldn’t ditch my mother,” Wilfred explained, his face contorting into total agony.
“Who… me?” Giselle gasped, widening her eyes, like the Botox effects had faded off.
“When I was three, after losing both of my parents in a plane wreck, I was adopted to a distant relative, the McCambridges. I can still recall the moment I saw my mother. It was an early summer day, and she was waiting for me in the garden, standing underneath the walkway surrounded by pink roses. She was wearing the most beautiful white summer dress, and her blonde hair was dancing with the occasional warm breeze. She was stunning.”
Not saying anything, Giselle was listening to her adopted son’s speech. The bluish flare around herself had disappeared, and she looked somewhat softer.
“She was a beautiful tough cookie, but at the same time, she was the most gentle-hearted person. As she didn’t have children of her own, she wasn’t accustomed to dealing with me at first, but she stayed with me all night when I was sick. She took me to Disneyland, and we rode Space Mountain together, even though she wasn’t a huge fan of roller coasters. As I heard my adopted grandparents telling her to shape me
into a great McCambridge because it was her duty to do so, I felt terribly sorry for her. She didn’t deserve such a burden.”
“No, Wilfred… that’s not true. I have never seen you as a burden,” Giselle argued, shaking her head. She seemed desperate to send a message to her son, but no way Wilfred could see or hear her.
I mouthed to her, asking if there was anything I could do for her, but she shook her head sadly.
“Rose was very understanding about the whole situation, and we broke up. In the following year, I married Wilma-Diane, following my father’s wishes. At this time, I had no idea about Rose’s pregnancy with my child.”
“So, you didn’t hear from Rose about Stacy’s birth. Is that correct?” Rowling asked.
“No.” Wilfred’s frown deepened. “If only I knew…” He didn’t say the rest in front of Wilma-Diane.
“I still remember the shock when Whitney brought home Stacy, her friend. It happened two years ago, but I can still feel it like it happened only yesterday. It had been over twenty years since I had separated from Rose, but Stacy was the mirror image of her mother. Then again, at that time, I just thought it was a coincidence.”
“That’s it?”
“Seriously?”
“Dad’s never been known as someone with the sixth sense.”
“Still, the whole story sounds so cold that I’m having goose bumps.”
As Wilfred slumped his shoulders, the McCambridge kids muttered their thoughts.
“Excuse me, but—” Captain DeLaurentis tried to interject. She looked like she was itching to ask Wilfred about what actually happened on the night of Giselle’s death, rather than his dramatic encounter with his lovechild.
“So, when did you learn about Stacy’s route?” Rowling asked.
“I had a chance to chat with Stacy at Whitney’s birthday party last year, and I learned that she was more than a year older than my daughter. From her looks and her birthday, even I could think about the possibility of Stacy being my daughter, so I asked her about her mother’s name, and she said it was Rose. I contacted a lawyer to investigate this matter, without telling my wife or mother… And then last November, it was confirmed that Stacy is indeed my daughter.” The current CEO of McCambridge Steel choked up with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Stacy…”
“It’s okay, Mr. McCambridge.” Sniffing, Stacy held Wilfred’s hand. “And… sorry that I can’t call you something more endearing like Daddy, but I just can’t… when my father back home is fighting cancer.”
“I know. It’s okay.” Wilfred held her hand, and they clung to each other.
“What an irony my father, a genetic engineering specialist, has no idea about my genetic background,” she muttered.
According to Stacy, she went back home in Kentucky to see her dad in the hospital and have a talk with Rose. When confronted, Rose told her daughter that she moved to Georgia to attend graduate school just after splitting from her former boyfriend. At the icebreaker party, she met a teaching assistant named Andy Wilcox, and soon they started cohabiting and she got pregnant. Not knowing the father of her fetus, Rose took a chance, convincing herself that the baby’s father was Andy. She begged Stacy not to tell Andy about her genetic background, and Stacy agreed. She didn’t want to upset Andy, and regardless of genetics, Andy was the only daddy she had ever known.
“When she came back in the city, she told us that she can’t betray her sick daddy,” Whitney said with teary eyes. “I was both sad and frustrated. Stacy deserved many things we enjoyed as the eldest McCambridge kid, and she missed everything. Still, when she asked me if we could still be friends, I was so happy that I broke down and cried.”
“Whitney, come on, we were never poor, and my life in Kentucky was great. It wasn’t as glamorous as that of the Upper East Side, but it’s exciting in its own way. We’re the only state hosting the Kentucky derby.” As Stacy hugged her younger half sister affectionately, I noticed the resemblance in their looks. They were not clone look-alikes, but subtle things such as how they moved their hands to gesture and how they frowned shared striking similarity.
“Okay, now I understand your situation, though I have a hunch that your dad back home in Kentucky accepted you and loved you as his own, regardless of your DNA.” Rowling cleared his throat. “So, what about the night of Giselle McCambridge’s death? Why were you in a maid’s uniform? Were you trying to frame Willow?”
“No!” Stacy shook her head. “I had no intention of framing anyone.”
“And a death was the last thing we expected. It was supposed to be an innocent prank,” Whitney added. “Our dad was in his den upstairs, and he buzzed the downstairs using the intercom, asking for a cup of coffee. But Willow didn’t answer, so we took the call in favor of her.”
“We thought it was funny if one of us brought him coffee, posing as a maid,” Wendy chimed in.
“Like you mentioned, I had the body shape which most resembled that of Willow’s.” Chewing her lower lip, Stacy confided in with Rowling, “The prank went super well. Mr. McCambridge was so surprised, and we shared a hearty laugh. After that, we chatted for a while, about nothing, like the series of pranks he pulled in his high school and college days. We had such a good time, just like father-daughter quality time. I was so happy and excited, maybe too excited. If only I was….” Stacy choked on her words.
“Then what happened?” I asked. So far, I had been acting like a pattern on the wall, but I got somewhat bored just watching the drama. Besides, Giselle was demanding Stacy to go on.
“Hello, Stacy? What happened? Just suck up your feelings and go on with your explaining. I deserve to know.” The ghost of Giselle was cheering the young woman who just admitted her responsibility regarding Giselle’s very own death.
I saw a lot of emotions playing over her face, which previously looked just stern and botoxed. And when I saw acceptance in her eyes, I felt the urge to do something to help this ghost of a very strict, scary woman, who had been hiding a soft and warm heart underneath the rigid armor of protocol.
Between sobs and hiccups, Stacy continued. “When I came out of the den, I saw Madame Giselle going down the stairs, and I thought it would be funny if I pulled the same prank on her. So I tiptoed after her, thinking how hilarious it would be if I patted one of her shoulders and said, ‘Surprise!’ In my head, she was already surprised in a good sense, smiling, and laughing, but I was wrong. I was borrowing Willow’s outfit, including her shoes. They were too large for my feet, and it was difficult to walk in them.”
“Ooh… tight shoes are a bitch, but loose-fitting shoes are evil,” Jackie commented. “Or maybe, loose shoes are a bitch, and tight shoes are evil… Oh my god, I’m so confused!”
As the ghost of a drag queen pulled her hair. Giselle shushed her. “Will you please shut up? Besides, what are you doing in my house?”
“Hello, Madame Giselle. I’m Jackie, Mandy’s guardian angel. She’s supposed to solve my murder case, but so far, it’s gone cold. Anyway, it’s fabulous meeting you, and I love your mansion!” Not taking Giselle’s sarcasm at all, Jackie beamed at the difficult widow.
Giselle shushed Jackie again, which made the ghost of a drag queen pout, but she shut up anyway.
“When I stood behind her, I kind of lost my footing, slipping on the marble floor. Losing my balance, I swung my hands desperately, trying my best not to bump into her, but my arms went the wrong way…” Tears streamed down from her gray eyes. “One of my hands landed on Madame Giselle’s delicate back, and it landed hard. And the next thing I knew, she fell down a flight of stairs. I didn’t mean to hurt her… I’m so sorry!”
“Hmm… that explains the feeling of a hand on my back before the fall,” Giselle muttered as Stacy broke down in tears.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her, and I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have done something, like calling for help immediately, but when I saw her collapsed, unmoving on the floor, I got totally freaked out. I really hate to say I wasn’t myse
lf, making an excuse that I was at a state of temporary insanity, but somehow, my brain zoned out of my body, and I started operating on autopilot… and, I-I… walked out, leaving an injured Madame Giselle behind…,” Stacy choked out, wailing.
“Okay, go on.” DeLaurentis nodded, folding her arms.
“In a stupefied disorientation, I wandered into Wolffy’s room, but then I saw a glimpse of Wyatt waving at me, so again, I fled from the room into the corridor. Then I bumped into Mrs. McCambridge.”
“Yes.” Nodding, Wilma-Diane volunteered, “The moment she saw my face, she started to cry, saying, ‘I’m sorry, that wasn’t intentional’ over and over. I knew about Stacy’s birth since Wilfred had been consulting with me since the moment her DNA test results came in. I was more than keen on taking this matter as calmly and benevolently as possible. I didn’t want to make a big fuss over the situation. So, we brought her into our bedroom.”
“What?” Wyatt squealed, following her words. “Mom, you were aware of Dad’s lovechild and you’ve been acting normal? Aren’t you supposed to get upset, maybe screaming, throwing dishes at him or something?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t get upset, and I’m still not,” his mother replied with a calm and composed smile. “That sort of thing happens as often as the Kardashian girls going on a shopping spree. It’s just a natural course of life. Besides, I had a beau of my own before marrying your dad.”
Wilfred and Wyatt sucked in the air. “Did you…?” they said in unison.
“Rest assured, I never met him after tying the knot with you.” Wilma-Diane winked and kissed her husband on the cheek.
“Oh really, thank you.” Mumbling, Wilfred kissed her back.
I was a little interested in the romantic tales of young Wilfred and Wilma-Diane, but Rowling butted in. “So, Mrs. McCambridge, you kept Stacy hiding in your bedroom all the while, is that correct?”
“Exactly,” Wilma-Diane replied matter-of-factly. “I told Willow to prepare pajamas and underwear for my mother-in-law to be hospitalized for treatment. Meanwhile, I arranged Whitney to bring Stacy’s clothes upstairs and returned the extra maid’s uniform to the locker downstairs. In addition, I washed and dried the coffee cup Stacy brought to my husband after Willow went home.”