by Alex P. Berg
I paused at my door. I looked to the side, toward Shay’s room, and suffered a sudden, bone-chilling premonition.
I crossed to her door, took hold of the handle, and tested it.
It gave.
With my heart in my throat, I pushed through, quietly, my muscles coiled, my senses sharpened, my psyche balanced on a razor’s edge. My eyes, already adjusted to the moon’s dim glow, took in the room much quicker than I had my own. As in mine, a bookshelf, dresser, and vanity graced the walls, and a small nightstand laden with a tray of tea and essentials sat next to a large canopy bed. None of my five senses indicated the presence of an intruder, nor did my sixth one. A sense of calm and quiet hung over the room like the growing fog outside.
Too great a sensation of quiet.
Icy dread filled my veins as I approached the bed. Thick blankets lay over the top, motionless and draped over a still form. I reached their edge and grasped a corner, pulling it back. There under the covers. The shine of her chocolate brown hair. Her skin, pale like ivory in the moonlit glow. And silence.
“Shay?” A whisper, like frosted breath, escaped my lips. I reached down with a trembling hand and pressed it against her shoulder.
“Gaaaaahhhhh!”
“Naahhhh!”
Shay lurched and screamed, her arms flailing. I screamed and flew through the air, landing on my posterior with a thump and a grunt.
Shay lay on her bed, naked to her waist, pushing herself off the bed with one arm and holding the other in the air like a claw. She whipped her head back and forth until freezing on me. Her claw arm relaxed, and she swiped her tangled locks out of her face.
“Daggers?” She sighed and flopped onto her back, head sinking into a pillow. She pressed a hand against her forehead. “Good gods, you scared me.”
“I scared you?” I said, panting. “You scared me. With the…the quiet and the stillness and the not breathing.”
“Not breathing? What the hell are you talking about?”
I scrambled to my feet. Maybe I’d imagined it. My nerves felt like they’d been pressed through a sieve. “It’s…what it looked like at the time.”
“Seriously, Jake, what on earth are you doing here?” She pulled back her hand and sat up a little, blinking in the direction of her floor clock. “It’s two fifteen in the morning. And I thought I locked my door. How’d you get in here?”
“It was locked,” I said. “At least, it was about an hour ago. But now it’s not. I mean, it wasn’t. Before I came in.”
“You’ve been checking the lock on my door every hour?”
“No, no. That would be creepy. Just the once. Twice, if you count this time.”
“Because that’s not creepy at all. Especially not combined with your lustful panting.”
“Hey, I was concerned, alright? I had reasons. And I went for a jog, so my heavy breathing is justified, okay?”
“You went for a jog? Jake, would you mind telling me what the heck is going on?”
Shay lay back down. She turned my way, resting on her side, and pulled the covers to her ribs. Of course, that left her breasts bare. I couldn’t see perfectly in the light of the moon, but I saw enough to get my juices flowing, more so than they already had from my run.
I sat on the edge of her bed, one leg tucked underneath me, the bottom of my robe reaching to mid thigh. I tried to focus.
“Look. I’m not some old man who wakes up in the middle of the night to use the john and then wanders around aimlessly for hours trying to get back to sleep—although I did take a bathroom break before leaving my room, but that’s besides the point. The point is I heard a noise. A creaking, then a clack, like a latch. I thought someone had broken into my room.”
“Really?” said Shay. “I had a similar feeling earlier.”
My ears perked. “You did?”
“Yeah. About a minute ago. The only difference is I was right.”
“Very funny. Before going back to bed, I checked my window, and I saw a shadow. And before you tell me it was the trees, it wasn’t. Those cast shadows, too, but the one I saw was different. I followed it, first to the pond and then past that, to a graveyard. Someone had been there, Shay. Visiting the graves of the servants who died in the fire, Aaron and Sophie.”
Shay propped herself up on an elbow, intertwining her fingers into her hair. “You’re sure?”
“Not as sure as I would be in daylight, but pretty sure.”
“And what does this have to do with you breaking into my room?”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t break in. After leaving my room, I checked on yours to make sure the door was locked. It was. Then while at the graveyard, I got the sensation I was being watched, like in the attic. I ran back, hence the jog. I was about to go to my room when a horrible fear struck me, and after discovering your room to be unlocked, I thought… I mean…”
Shay snaked out a hand and rested it on my exposed thigh. “Jake, it’s sweet of you to be concerned, but look at me. I’m fine.”
I did look, and she looked better than fine. Damned good, actually. I didn’t think my body would be able to transition from a state of sheer terror to lust so quickly, but a recent change in my lower body physiology was proving me quite wrong.
“Ah…” I blinked a few times. “You’re, uh…taking this surprisingly well.”
“Come on, Daggers,” she said, hand still pressed against my leg. “I know you. You’re prone to exaggeration from time to time.”
“Exaggeration? I’d resent that if it weren’t so true. But I’m dead serious. Someone picked the lock on your door. I mean, why would I make that up?”
Shay’s shoulders twitched. “Maybe you got scared by something that went bump in the night and came over here for comfort.”
I snorted.
“Or maybe you had an…ulterior motive.”
Shay’s hand moved further up my leg, reaching tantalizingly close to the sweet spot. I felt an undeniable amount of motion under my robe.
“Ah…uh… I mean…” I swallowed. “Look, the door was unlocked, alright?”
“Fine,” said Shay. “I believe you. So go lock it for me.”
“I don’t have a key.”
“You don’t need the key to lock it from the inside.”
The little green man in my head slapped me just in time. I sprang up, locked the door, threw what little clothes I wore to the floor, and jumped into bed alongside Shay. I pressed my body against hers, which was warm and firm and yet still soft in all the right places. As I quickly discovered, she’d chosen to wear less to bed than I had.
Shay ran her hands over my back and sides. “Well, that escalated quickly.”
I let my hands roam, too. “Hey, you suggested it.”
“I suggested you spend the night,” said Shay, biting her lip as I squeezed a certain part of her. “After all, if you’re right about intruders, it’s safer for us to stick together. You’re the one who tried to set a land speed record for disrobement.”
“Are you suggesting you don’t want to stick together?”
A soft moan escaped Shay’s lips as I kept massaging. “I said nothing of the sort. I was actually going to suggest that since you woke me up in the middle of the night, you’d better make it worth my while.”
“Oh, well. No pressure then.”
“Oh, there’ll be pressure.”
I wasn’t sure if Shay meant that literally or if it was a euphemism. Normally, terrible puns and innuendo were my thing.
I decided to ignore it and silenced Shay with a kiss. It turned out to be the right choice.
23
“Jake? You there, Jake? Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”
I cracked an eyelid, for a moment experiencing a strange sense of déjà vu, but it passed as quickly as it came. I lay in Shay’s bed. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating my discarded robe and underwear on the floor. Shay stood smack dab in the middle of the frame, her
long legs and petite derrière outlined by the light. Sadly, she’d already thrown on her undies and was in the process of buttoning her shirt.
I blinked and stretched my eyebrows. “What…no seconds?”
Shay smiled, her lustrous hair cascading down her back and over the polka dots of her shirt. “You’re in your mid-thirties. Isn’t your libido supposed to be slowing down?”
“Mid-thirties? Give me break. I’ve got at least another year or two. Maybe three if we’re being generous.”
“Well, regardless,” said Shay, finishing up the last of her buttons, “it’s getting to be a little late for that. The sun’s up. I imagine most of the household and the staff have risen.”
I stifled a yawn. “I can be quick. You know…when the circumstances demand it.”
Shay crossed over to me and gave me a kiss. She smiled as she pulled back. “It’s sweet of you to offer such a sacrifice, but I’m going to pass. I already had to be quieter than I prefer last night, and it’s weird doing it in someone else’s home without permission.”
“You’d ask permission?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Didn’t seem to bother you last night.”
“Yeah, well, I was still a little drunk when you barged in,” said Shay. “Now stop complaining, get up, and get dressed. We have work to do.”
I sighed and flipped the covers off myself. I would’ve done as Shay asked, except for the fact that barring my underwear and robe my clothes were all still in my room. I pulled on the former and sat back down on the bed.
I sat there, watching Shay as she squeezed into her pants and shrugged into her jacket. She flipped her hair out of the jacket’s collar and paused, noticing my stare. “Something wrong?”
“No. Just enjoying watching you.”
Shay lifted a brow. “Well, I guess that’s less creepy than you breaking into my room in a robe and panting up a storm.”
I snorted. “I told you, I didn’t break in. I was looking out for you.”
“I’m giving you a hard time. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Though I’m glad to see you’ve lost some of the crazed hysteria you had when you first came in last night.”
I shrugged. “Sleep and sex will do that. Lets me look at things with a more level head. Which isn’t to say I’m not still concerned. Someone was snooping around the manor and grounds last night, maybe multiple people. I’m pretty sure one of them was following me, and someone picked the lock on your door, to what end, I’m still not sure.”
Shay sat down to pull on her socks. “Well, at least they didn’t come back.”
“True.” I glanced toward the door. It remained locked.
Shay finished with her socks and drew on her shoes. “So…you said you were being watched. I don’t suppose you have any idea by whom?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t catch any glimpses of them. Honestly, I didn’t even see any definite forms, but I’ve had the feeling before. Someone was after me. It could’ve been anyone. I swear, the deeper we dig into this case, the more it seems like everyone is harboring secrets. Although I can’t come up with motives for most of the people we’ve interviewed over the past day, I can certainly imagine scenarios in which they might have one, if that makes sense.”
“So you’re convinced Clarice Vanderfeller is dead, then?”
“Not a hundred percent, but close. Aren’t you?”
Shay nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Which is why I was going to propose we focus our energies on finding her body. Without that, we’re operating on pure speculation. Find the body, and we’ll gain all the clues that go along with it.”
“You won’t get an argument from me,” I said. “We should search the entire premises ourselves, seeing as I don’t trust the reports of the family members and staff who looked around. But there are a few other nagging issues I’d like to get to the bottom of. Off the top of my head, I’d like to know why Fezig was lying about his meeting with Simon yesterday, what Lothorien is hiding, who if anyone Iolite is protecting, who was following me, and what the heck’s up with Angela.”
“That last one seems kind of vague.”
“Well, she’s kind of weird, so it’s only fitting.”
Shay stood and walked to her vanity, where she checked to make sure her hair wasn’t too telling of the night’s events. “Sounds good to me. Why don’t I find Iolite? She might be willing to open up to me if I get her in private. She’s not that much younger than I am, to be fair. After I grab a bite of breakfast, that is.”
“You’re hungry? I think I might be working last night’s meal off until lunchtime.”
Shay shrugged. “I’ve got a private chef willing to cook for me. I’ll take advantage of it while I can. So what’s your plan of action?”
“Maybe I’ll track down Lothorien,” I said. “Like you with Iolite, he might open up to me if I approach him man to man.”
Shay snorted as she finished up at the mirror. “Good luck with that. Though I suggest you put on pants first.”
“I’ll get to that. I’m taking my time.”
Shay grinned. “Flaunting yourself at me won’t work. Now go. I’m about done.”
“Fine.” I grabbed my robe and threw it on. “You sure you want to split up, though, given everything I went through last night?”
“People are spying on us, Daggers. It means we’re on the right track, but it’s a far cry from that to attempts on our lives.”
“Clarice went missing. We could, too. Just be careful is all I’m saying, okay?”
Shay nodded and gave me a peck. “Look for me in the kitchen if you need me. Seems a good as place as any to meet later.”
Shay left her room, and I headed down the hall to mine. I cracked the door and closed it behind me, crossing to the dresser where I’d stored my clothes. Dumping my robe, I threw on my pants and shirt, then my socks and shoes before eventually crossing back to the table where I’d hung my leather jacket over the back of one of the chairs.
I paused. I couldn’t be sure, but the jacket looked askew. I checked the pocket with my truncheon, Daisy. She was still there, thank the gods. My wallet was, too, and as empty as it had been a day ago. I didn’t think I had anything else worth taking, but then I remembered.
The case file summaries from the precinct.
I checked on them, finding them where I’d left them but folded more sloppily than I remembered. Someone had taken a look at them, but why? Had they been investigating the fire or Nell’s disappearance as Shay and I were, or had they been looking for something else and happened upon the files by accident? And was the intruder on the right side of the law, searching for justice for Nell and Clarice both, or were they trying to keep Shay and I from discovering the truth?
I slipped my jacket over my shoulders before examining the rest of my room, but whoever had been in there had failed to leave a note or any other overt clue. I didn’t think they would’ve, even accounting for their careless handling of my coat. Still, I reminded myself to keep my eyes peeled and my mind clear as headed for the door.
24
I surprised Steele in the kitchen. My partner was biting into a scone as I arrived, but I didn’t stay. I’d merely forgotten that even though I felt sated enough to skip breakfast, I’d crash and burn without a mug of coffee. With that in hand, I stomped across the manor, almost getting lost again before finding the stairwell I was looking for and descending into the servants’ quarters. The doors were all closed, but in a rare moment of clarity, I remembered which one was Lothorien’s.
I knocked on the hardwood. “Lothorien? You in? I was hoping to have a word.”
I gave him a few seconds but received no answer. I tested the doorknob and found it unlocked. Based on my experiences from last night and Clarice’s disappearance, I thought the inhabitants of the Aldermont should take more care about their personal safety, but in this case, Lothorien’s trust worked to my advantage.
> I let myself in. “Lothorien? You here?”
It only took a moment to realize he wasn’t, unless he’d taken up contortionism and stuffed himself into one of his dresser drawers. Much more likely he’d already begun his duties as butler, probably at the crack of dawn as I imagined most of the staff had. One more reason not to go into private security should my detective career fall into shambles.
Still, no reason to let Lothorien’s absence go to waste. I closed the door behind me, settled my mug of coffee down, and commenced to digging. There wasn’t much of interest on the butler’s bed, so I focused my energies on his desk and dresser. On the former, I found the bottle of rubbing alcohol Steele had noticed earlier, as well as a bottle of caramel-colored alcohol that most certainly wasn’t of the cleaning variety. However, after picking through his personal effects on and in the desk, I didn’t find the spoon. Perhaps he’d taken it back to the kitchens.
His dresser did harbor a secret, though, one Steele had presciently predicted. Tucked between a stack of sweaters, which I’m sure the elf rarely wore given his profession, I found a hypodermic needle. Sticky residue lingered inside the syringe.
So… Lothorien was a user, just as we’d suspected. His use must’ve been more of the recreational than chronic variety, otherwise his nervous tic would’ve been more of an uncontrollable twitch. Also, his behavior was fairly controlled, with any nerves easily explained by the stress of his position or the Vanderfellers’ trials. Still, if the butler had been willing to keep one secret from us, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine he’d be willing to keep more.
I tucked the needle back into place, making sure to do a better job with Lothorien’s effects than my intruder had done with mine. I drummed my fingers on the dresser’s polished top, wondering if there was anything else the elf’s room might be willing to tell me. I hadn’t found any diaries or ledgers. No particular correspondence, either. Although…
