by D E Dennis
Beauty In Death
D.E. Dennis
Published by D.E. Dennis, 2019.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
The End
A Trail of Breadcrumbs | Sneak Peek
Chapter One
Beauty looked around the ballroom. The string lights sparkling overhead, the DJ teasing out a steady flow of bumping beats, the people dressed in magnificent costumes and elaborate masks, all enjoying the heady thrill that came with a masquerade. From her platform, she watched them dance, laugh, flirt, and drink, and she rolled her eyes so hard she almost hurt herself.
She should have known better than to let her parents handle organizing her twenty-first birthday party. They messed everything up. The food was all wrong. Sliders and cheese sticks, seriously? Was this a backyard townie barbeque? They got a DJ instead of a band, and don’t even get her started on the throne.
She specifically told her father that she wanted an original wood-carved throne placed on top of the makeshift stage, so that the whole room could gaze upon her. She told him all that, but did she really need to spell out that it should be upholstered. The blasted seat was hard as, well, wood.
Beauty shifted, trying to get comfortable, and groaned loud enough for anyone in her vicinity to hear.
Her mother climbed the steps to the platform. “Beauty, darling, is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not okay.” She ripped off her mask and glared at her. “Mom, this stupid throne is the worst. You could at least get me a pillow to sit on!”
Her mother’s smile never wavered. “Of course, love. I’ll be right back.”
She took off and Beauty turned her glare on the rest of the room. This was the worst birthday party in the history of birthday parties. This beat the time her parents refused to get the famous band, Witches’ Brew, to perform at her sixteenth. They banged on about the band having prior tour commitments and not able to break contract, but she knew they were just making excuses.
Beauty felt a buzzing from somewhere in her voluminous skirt. She stuck her hand in her pocket, pulled out her phone, and read the text.
She glanced around again. I’ll only be gone for a little while. This party sucks anyway.
Beauty got to her feet and stepped off the platform. She weaved through the crowd collecting compliments as she went.
“Beauty, you look gorgeous.”
“Obviously.”
“This party is awesome.”
“Whatever.”
Beauty stopped in front of the guards standing at the entrance to the ballroom and snapped, “Move!”
They stepped aside immediately. “Yes, ma’am.”
Beauty picked up the pace when she got into the hallway and was finally alone. Her heels click-clacked on the polished stone and the soft whispers of her gown seemed to echo through the halls.
She climbed the grand staircase. When she reached the very top, she paused, settling in to wait.
And wait. And wait some more.
She waited a bit longer before giving up.
“Ugh, forget this.” Beauty sighed and turned to descend the stairs. She heard footsteps sound behind her. “Finally—”
She barely turned before feeling two hands placed against her back. Before she could fully register what was happening, she felt the force of a hard, unforgiving shove. Beauty pitched forward, screaming as she tumbled down the stairs, her body hitting every step on the way down.
MICHAEL RAISED HIS hand to knock for the third time and then lowered it. His heart was beating so hard against his rib cage it felt like it was trying to make its escape. Not that he could blame it. Part of him wanted to escape too. Just walk out the door, get in his car, and spend the rest of the night berating himself for ever suggesting this in the first place.
He lifted his hand again when a voice called through the door. “You did this before our first date too.” He could hear she was amused. “Just knock already, you goofball. I’m starving.”
Warm with embarrassment, Michael did as she commanded and knocked firmly on the door.
Swinging open on squeaky hinges, the door opened to reveal Samira Reddy, detective of the Castle Rock Police Department, a woman feared and respected by criminals and civilians alike, and Michael Grimm’s former fiancée.
She looked incredible without her waist-length hair curled into soft ringlets or the sky-blue summer dress or even the light dusting of makeup accentuated her brown eyes. She was beautiful without all those things, but with them...
“Wow,” Michael forced out before fourteen years of English language lessons deserted him.
Samira grinned. “You always know what to say, Mikey.” She stepped back and opened the door further. “Come in and wait. I’m almost ready.”
Michael followed her inside, his eyes sweeping the space as he did. “Nice place,” he complimented. “It’s at least twice the size of mine.”
She laughed as she transferred her phone, wallet, and keys into her purse. “I know, Michael. I used to live there too.”
“Right.” Awkwardly clearing his throat, Michael tried to figure out what to do with himself. Stand in the middle of the room like a human pillar, sit down even though he hadn’t been invited to, or hover around Samira until she finally said—
“Ready.” She hitched her purse strap over her shoulder and turned to him with a smile. “So where are we going?”
“I thought we could try Gracie’s? The grand opening is tonight and Monica threatened my life if I didn’t attend.”
Her smile dimmed. “So your sister is going to be there?”
“She won’t be eating with us,” he hastened to add. “It will just be you and me talking like I promised.”
“Okay.” She didn’t look convinced.
Michael led the way to his car and climbed inside. The ride itself was short. Maybe only a seven-minute drive, but those seven minutes stretched into an eternity filled with sideways glances, stilted small talk, and tense silences. The night had barely started, and it was already a disaster.
Michael had to circle the block a few times before he found a free parking spot. Together, they got out and walked side by side to the restaurant, shoulders bumping every now and then, but neither making a move to walk further apart.
Michael whistled when they turned the street corner and the restaurant came into view. The first fine dining establishment ever to grace their side of town and it had been opened by his younger sister’s best friend, Gracie Knapp. Despite the serious damage this would do to his wallet, Michael wanted to come out to support her, but a look at Samira’s glum expression made him think that it might have been a mistake.
“We can go somewhere else if you want,” he blurted. “The Little Pigs café is open late.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. If you really feel that uncomfortable being alone with me then I don’t want to push you.”
“Whoa.” Michael stopped dead in his tracks, a few feet from the entrance and the line of people waiting to get in. “Mira, that’s not it. I swear. Why would you even think that?”
She turned to face him, frowning. “Maybe it’s because I’ve been back in Castle Rock for almost a year, and the only time I see or hear from you is when you’re working a case. Or maybe it’s because you promised we would have a quiet dinner together to talk about our relationship, but instead you brought me here so you could use your sister as a buffer.”
“I’m not using her as a buffer,” he shot back, getting a
ngry. The crowd of people began shifting their attention to the spectacle. “I told you, it’s just going to be you and me. That’s what you wanted isn’t it?”
“Yes, Michael,” she replied, her face falling. “This is what I wanted. To be standing in a parking lot arguing with you, while half the town stares at us. Just forget it.” She gave him her back and walked off.
Now confused as well as feeling angry and guilty, Michael threw up his hands and ran to catch up with her, bypassing the line of nosy people.
Samira stood before the hostess, foot tapping, while Michael gave the hostess his name. “Michael Grimm, party of two.”
“Right this way, sir.”
Michael’s eyes widened as they weaved through the space. Gracie’s dream had been to open her own high-end establishment on their side of town but worries about the cost of keeping the doors open among a mostly middle-class clientele made her put it off. It took her six years and a string of thankless jobs as a private chef to finally go for it, and she had spared no expense. Crystal chandeliers hung above their heads shooting rainbows around the room. Expensive linens were draped over the small intimate tables and sitting on them were candles floating lazily in crystal bowls.
The hostess made to pull out Samira’s chair, but Michael stepped around her and did it himself. He needed to get this night back on track.
Samira sat with a murmured, “Thank you.”
“Here are your menus. Your server will be with you shortly, and may I say, thank you for dining with us tonight. I hope you enjoy your meal.”
Michael inclined his head and then turned his attention to the menu. They were quiet as they studied the options. Michael was silent because he was internally calculating how many cases he would need to take on to cover this dinner and Samira was quiet for reasons he couldn’t guess.
“See anything you like?” Michael asked.
The menu came down slightly, revealing her eyes. “The lamb is tempting me, but it’s been so long since I’ve had fresh, handmade pasta. You?”
“The risotto or maybe the yellowtail. It all looks so good.” Michael closed his menu and leaned in. “Honestly, all this is way too grand for the likes of us townies. Gracie would have been better off opening on the other side to palettes not destroyed by short-order grease fries and late-night TV dinners.”
Samira brought the menu to her face to cover her laugh. “Speak for yourself, Grimm. I’m not one of you Castle Rock townies. I’ll have you know the people of Snowhaven are quite used to the finer things. I would make it just fine on the other side.”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid you are one of us now. Once you start calling Fairy Tails the ‘other side,’ the transformation is complete.”
Her laughter rang out like chiming bells, and Michael finally relaxed.
I was worried for no reason. Bit of a hiccup at the start, but everything is going to be fine.
“I’m guessing a certain woman we both know and love, pushed Gracie to finally give opening her own restaurant a shot.”
Michael nodded. “That she did. She pushed me to open Grimm Investigations too. My little sister is a force to be reckoned with sometimes. She puts her mind to helping people, blows through the mess they call their lives, sorts everything out, and leaves you blinking in her wake wondering what just happened. Kind of like the opposite of a natural disaster.”
They laughed, but the truth was neither of them minded. Michael had thirty-two years on his sister’s twenty-six, but there had never been that sibling rivalry or distance brought on by the age gap. Monica was his best friend and partner. Together with their assistant, Eleanor Glass, they ran a private detective agency serving both sides of their divided town. They worked for the simple townspeople of Castle Rock and the wealthy heirs, moguls, CEOs, and even some royalty, who lived in the gated community known as Fairy Tails.
“We’ve both been so busy but I’m glad we could finally do this,” Samira said after they sobered.
Michael sighed. “I’m not as busy anymore. We got a flood of new clients following the Charming case, but it slowed to a trickle and now it’s about a drip. In our line of work, it’s a good thing when we don’t have a case but now that Monica and I have hired extra help, we’re getting worried about how we’re going to manage.”
Samira nodded. “I’m sorry to hear things are rough, but can we—”
“Good evening. Are you ready to order?”
Michael tore his eyes away from Samira and focused on their bow-tied waiter. “Yes, I would like the Japanese yellowtail.”
Samira gave her order and the waiter bowed before gliding away.
Michael picked up where he left off. “Monica has her band, but I put all my savings into Grimm Investigations, so I have to make this work. We—”
“Michael,” Samira interrupted firmly. “I don’t want to talk about work tonight. I want to talk about us.”
He blinked. “Oh, right. Well, let’s do that. Where do you want to start?”
“Okay, good.” Samira brushed her hair over her shoulder and took a deep breath. “So eight years ago, everything was going perfectly, we were planning our wedding, and then things just ended and I still don’t know why.”
Michael stiffened with every word.
“I need you to tell me what happened all those years ago,” she continued. “What changed for you?”
His eyes fell to the flickering flame of the candle. He didn’t respond.
“Michael?” she probed. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “I would like for us to talk about something else.”
“Something else?” He could hear a spark of temper in her voice. “Why would we talk about something else, Michael? The entire point of tonight is to talk about our relationship. You asked me out, not the other way around.”
“I asked you here so that we could talk about the future, not the past,” he argued. “Mira, what good does it do either of us to reopen old wounds.”
“Because the wound never healed. We never had closure, Mikey, or at least I didn’t. We can’t move forward until we talk about this. Why won’t you just tell me why?”
“Because—”
“Because why?” she snapped, raising her voice.
Michael hated that she was upset, and he hated it even more that he was the reason, but there was nothing he could say that would make things better for her. So he would say nothing at all.
“I’m sorry,” he said, lifting his head to look her in the eye. “I am, but I’m not willing to talk about this.”
A look of hurt flashed across her face, but it was quickly followed by irritation. She crossed her arms, and staring him down, she said one word in response: “No.”
“No?”
“That’s right. No. I’m not hearing that anymore, Michael. I need to know the truth, and we’re not moving on until I do.”
His jaw worked, trying to form a response to that. “But—”
Samira held up a hand. “Hold on.” She took her purse off her lap and took out her vibrating phone. Turning away, she put the phone to her ear. “What is it, Spencer?”
Michael ran through a hundred different replies as Samira carried on her short conversation, and each sounded worse than the last.
No? Michael thought. What do I say to no?
Samira hung up the phone and turned back to him. He took a deep breath.
“Samira, I really want us to be—”
“Let’s go.” Abruptly, she got to her feet.
“What? Why?” he sputtered.
“I got called in. Spencer could only give me the highlights, but the gist is there is an emergency in Fairy Tails. A woman was rushed to the hospital. Foul play suspected. The family is holding their guests hostage until police arrive on the scene, so I need to go now and you’re my ride.”
With that, she took off expecting him to follow, and Michael was right on her heels. They hurried out of the restaurant and hopped into his car.
Micha
el zipped through town, heading for the Fairy Tails gate as fast as the speed limit would allow. They were silent as he drove and that silence hung in the air.
Michael slowed down as he approached the gate security and glanced over at Samira. She was looking out the window. “Look, we left things in a weird place,” he said, “but I need you to know your friendship is important to me.”
“I know.”
He paused, waiting for her to say more, but she didn’t.
“Okay, then,” Michael said hesitantly. “Does that mean we’re good?”
“It means that it is up to you,” she said calmly without turning her head. “I’ve told you how I feel. I can’t move on with so many things unresolved between us. So the ball is in your court now. When you’re ready to have a talk, a real talk, about our past and our future, then we can decide what we are to each other. Until then, we stay as we are, only interacting when we share a case.”
A tap on the window drew his attention and he rolled it down to give the guard his name and identification. Michael was waved through and he drove on, his heart aching with all the things he wanted to say.
But what came out was, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”
She sighed. “We’re going to Cadal Manor. They’re at the end of Green Street.”
The name tickled his memory. “Cadal? That sounds familiar.”
“It should. Kingdom Films should also sound familiar.”
He snapped his fingers when it came to him. “Charles Cadal. He is that famous director and owner of his own studio, Kingdom Films.”
“That’s right.” Her words were clipped, emotionless.
Was she mad at me?
“Why is he holding his guests hostage?” Michael asked.
“Don’t worry about it, Grimm. You’re just my ride.”
Michael closed his mouth with a snap. Yep, definitely mad.
He turned down Green Street and drove until the gates of the mansion blocked his path. Cadal Manor was nothing like the rest of the homes on Greet Street or even in Fairy Tails. Most of the families here were old money with mansions that had been erected almost a hundred years ago. But Cadal Manor wasn’t steeped in old-timey, Agatha-Christie-murder-manor charm.
