Beauty In Death

by D E Dennis

  Michael was on the edge of his seat.

  Ripping off the blanket, Monica pointed to the top of the timeline they had charted. “Three months ago, Beauty Cadal is contacted by a representative of the famous magazine, Mirror, Mirror. The rep sent her a message through the contact page on her blog. The message is still there, saved in her inbox, unlike all the other angry ones she deleted.

  “The rep gives her his email address and tells her to contact him if she is interested in being featured in the magazine. Naturally, she is, and their conversation is moved off the blog to Beauty’s email account.”

  Michael nodded along. “Okay. Gotcha.”

  Moving down the timeline, Monica pointed to the next bullet. “The emails go back and forth for months, starting from when the rep first made contact. The two of them were speaking almost every day.”

  Michael screwed up his face. “Every day? About the article?”

  Grinning wider, Monica shook her head. “They started out talking about the article, but as the emails progress they take on a... flirtier tone.”

  Michael’s brows disappeared into his hairline.

  “The rep starts going on about how beautiful she is, how smart, and what a good eye she has for fashion. He sent her pictures of himself: a handsome, blue-eyed, young man, and Beauty basks in it. She flirts right back and soon the emails aren’t about the article at all. She sends a few pictures of herself and she’s missing a couple things... like clothes.

  “Like I said, they go back and forth like this until a couple weeks ago. At that time, the rep, a man named James Spindle, asks her if she wants to take their relationship off email and exchange phone numbers. He gives his and that’s the last email in the chain.”

  “Cheese on bread,” Michael cried. “This James guy, have you been able to track him down?”

  Grin still firmly in place, Monica turned to Ella.

  Ella stepped forward, ready for her cue. “I called Mirror, Mirror yesterday and spoke to a member of their editorial staff. Not only are they not featuring an article of young, entrepreneurial fashion bloggers, but no one there has ever heard of James Spindle.”

  “THIS IS HUGE.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, this is big!”

  “I know,” Monica repeated herself.

  Their positions had switched. Now it was Monica and Ella on the couch while Michael paced in front of them.

  “This can’t be a coincidence,” Monica mused aloud. “A silent phantom lurks near Beauty, biding their time, and then all of a sudden this catfish pops up, making up identities and fashion articles just to get close to her. Could they be the same person?”

  “It would make sense if it was, and it would explain a lot of things,” Michael said fervently, gesturing at the timeline. “We’ve been looking for the who, and that who must be this catfish, hiding behind the fake Spindle persona. It also explains why the phone was taken. If James Spindle was at the party, and he met Beauty at the top of those stairs, then he might have taken the phone, so no one could trace the message that lured her out of the ballroom.”

  Michael halted in his tracks. “We need to call Samira.”

  They wasted no time in getting Samira on the phone.

  “What is it, Mikey? I’m buried in paperwork.”

  “Can you come over today after work? We’ve been looking into Beauty Cadal’s fall. Every rock we’ve kicked over comes up as not an accident. We think we have a suspect and an explanation for why the phone was taken.”

  “We’ll be there at six.”

  Michael hung up and flopped onto the couch. “That’s incredible work,” he said to Monica and Ella. “Now, we just have to figure out if someone at the party was posing as James Spindle.”

  “And why?” Ella shivered. “It’s so creepy, the thought of someone close to you deceiving you like that. Who would do that?”

  Michael recalled what Monica said the very night of the party. “Someone who was watching her, following her around, and biding their time,” he repeated. “Someone who wanted to make sure she wouldn’t walk away from another supposed accident. We knew this killer was patient, and we knew they were smart. They had Beauty fooled, and they may even have us fooled too. We might have already met James Spindle and didn’t know it.”

  That disquieting statement made both Ella and Monica shiver.

  “So creepy,” Monica echoed. “Beauty didn’t seem to be the nicest person, but she didn’t deserve this. Nor do her parents deserve the pain they’re going through right now.”

  Michael thought of Charles Cadal, sitting in a dark room crying alone over videos of his daughter. “No, they don’t.” He sighed. “But, the only way to help them now is to find the killer. Ella, did you have any luck with the list of party guests or employees?”

  “I looked into all the names on Diragoni’s list. The decorators came and went before the party even started. The three guys who rigged up the electronics had another gig that same night and were gone long before Beauty was pushed. That only leaves the servers and the caterer. The caterer is a sixty-year-old woman who brought the food to the venue and then left the rest to the servers. While the servers themselves don’t have any connection to Beauty or the Cadals. They all live on our side. None of them go to CRU, and they have no mutual friends with Beauty on social media.”

  “What about the guards?” Michael questioned.

  “I did have more luck there,” Ella said with a smile. “Marcus Pepper finally got back to me, and he agreed to meet with you both in the town square tomorrow morning.”

  “Thanks, Ella.” He glanced at his watch. “You should get going. Don’t you have a class before noon?”

  She nodded. “I’ll see you both tomorrow. Have a nice dinner.”

  “Dinner?” Michael inquired.

  “So, bro,” Monica cut in. “Any guesses on who Spindle could be?”

  Michael took his attention off Ella and back on the case. “I’ve been thinking about that and...”

  They spent the rest of their day going through their rather short suspect list and tossing around ideas. By the time six rolled around, they were no closer to learning the identity of James Spindle.

  Michael looked up from his laptop when the door flew open. He smiled. “Hey, Samira. Good to see you. How was work?”

  Michael didn’t bother to greet Spencer, and the guy made no move to acknowledge him either. Spencer made a beeline for his sister.

  Samira smiled, all of her teeth on full display. “It was a slow day, but I hear you’re going to change that.”

  “Yes, we have more information in the story of Sleeping Beauty, Spindle, and the accident that wasn’t an accident.”

  They stood grinning at each other until Monica drifted behind Samira’s back, and gave him a knowing look over her shoulder.

  His grin disappeared. “So anyway,” he said quickly. “Sit down, and we’ll fill you in.”

  “Better be good, Grimm,” Spencer said grumpily. “It’s a crime to waste police time even when they’re off work.”

  “Oh? Am I wasting your time, Sir Ribbit?” Monica said, hands on her hips.

  Michael tuned out whatever simpering nonsense Spencer said in response and took a seat next to Samira.

  “So this is what we know...”

  Michael filled her in on everything they had learned over the last few days. All the conversations they had, the rooms they had snooped in, and the computer they broke into. Spencer joined in halfway and listened intently as Michael and Monica explained James Spindle, and how the man most likely did not exist.

  “What do you think?” Michael asked. “Are things not looking pretty foul now?”

  Samira’s brows were furrowed in thought. She took her time before answering. “So your theory is the phone was taken by whoever posed as Spindle.”

  “We think so,” Monica said.

  “That they may have asked Beauty to meet them somewhere quiet and when she showed up, they pushed her.” />
  “Can’t know that for sure until we see the phone, which just feeds into our theory about why it was taken in the first place.”

  “Any idea who Spindle is?”

  Michael took this one. “Not yet. We have friends that despised her. A boyfriend that says their relationship meant nothing, and all the people she may have pissed off with her blog. We’ve crossed the party staff off the list, but we’re still working through the guests.”

  “Have you been working on how they could have pushed her without leaving the room? I agree that this Spindle character and the way he wormed his way into her life is suspicious, maybe even sinister, but until we find out how the killer managed to be in two places at once, we still have nothing.”

  Most people would have been discouraged by her word choice but there was one word in particular that Michael latched on to.

  “You keep saying ‘we,’ Mira,” he said with a grin. “Does that mean you’re on the case?”

  She heaved a sigh, but he could see she was hiding a smile. “Yes, Grimm. The CRPD is now on the case. Ready and willing to do most of the work for you.”

  His laughter was cut off by the sound of the door opening.

  “Hello?” Michael called. “We’re closed. Please come back tomorrow.”

  “You’re never closed to your mother,” came the stern reply.

  “Mom?” Michael stood and hurried out of the breakroom. “What are you doing here?”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m here for dinner, of course. Are you and your sister ready?”

  “Not yet, Mom,” Monica piped up from the other room. “I just have to change.”

  She zipped past him, snatched up her purse, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Michael turned back to Kimona. “Sorry, Mom. I didn’t realize we had plans tonight.”

  “What are you talking about, baby? Monica said you planned it together.”

  “We did?”

  Michael was the definition of confused, but his mother just patted his cheek and wandered into the next room. He heard her greet Samira warmly, before he sidled up to the bathroom door.

  He knocked. “Monica? What is Mom talking about? What dinner did we plan?”

  “You know,” she replied. “At the hospital? We told Dad we would have dinner together, tonight.”

  “What?! Monica! You’re the one who told him we would have dinner,” he hissed. “I never agreed.”

  “Too late for that.” Her voice was muffled, but Michael could hear clearly that she was far from apologetic. “Daddy is on the way, and Mom is already here. You can’t cancel now.”

  He cycled through many emotions as he tried to think of an argument, but she was right. He was stuck. “You did this on purpose,” he said irately. “You knew I forgot and waited until I had no way out.”

  “Yep,” she said cheerily. “Had to do what I had to do.”

  The door swung open, and Monica stood before him in a wraparound dress, boots, and a Cheshire grin. “How do I look?”

  “Like the trickster you are.”

  She threw her head back, laughing. “You’re so dramatic, bro. It’s not my fault you forgot. You were standing right there when I told him.”

  He sniffed, then twisted around. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Monica’s smile would not be dimmed. She snuck up behind him and snagged his arm, hooking it through hers. “Ready to go, Mom,” she said happily.

  Kimona clapped. “You look so beautiful, princess.”

  “Beautiful,” Spencer breathed, eyes lighting up.

  Monica giggled and sent him a wink.

  “Samira,” Kimona said. “Are you joining us for dinner?”

  “No, not tonight, but you all have fun.”

  “Such a shame. I feel like we haven’t spoken in so long.”

  Samira tsked. “It’s true, I’ve been busy. How about we go out for lunch sometime this week?”

  Wait. What?

  “That would be lovely. I’m retired now, so I’m free for lunch whenever you are.”

  “Thursday works for me.”

  Michael figured it was time to step in. “I’m also free for lunch Thursday. The three of us—”

  “No.” The refusals came from both lips.

  “Samira and I would like some girl time. Just us.”

  “That’s right, Michael,” Samira teased. “Although, I’m sure that terrifies you.”

  He gave a shaky laugh. “Why would it scare me?”

  It absolutely terrifies me.

  He slipped out of Monica’s arm, and began backing out of the room, going for his wallet and keys. “Just my mother and my ex-fiancée going out to lunch alone. What about that is scary?”

  “Exactly, Michael,” his mother called after him. “We’re just going to talk about work, life... my future grandbabies.”

  Michael came running back. “That’s it, I’m coming!”

  The four of them laughed themselves sick at his expense, and after a while, Michael let out a chuckle of his own. He almost started to forget what he had been so mad about—

  “It seems I missed the joke,” said someone directly behind him. “Care to let me in on it?”

  Michael’s laughter evaporated faster than a mirage in the desert.

  “Hello, everyone.” Michael felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hello, son.”

  “Hi, Dad,” he replied stiffly, while Monica came up to give Glenmore a hug and kiss.

  Michael stepped out of the doorway and looked toward his mother. Tight with nerves, he watched as Kimona calmly stood, smoothed out her pantsuit, and stepped into the spot he had just vacated, right in front of her estranged husband of twenty-three years.

  “Hello, Glenmore,” she said coolly, holding out her hand. “You look well.”

  “Kimona.” His father was all smiles as he took his mother’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You look lovely as usual.”

  His mother harrumphed but did not pull her hand away.

  Why wasn’t she pulling her hand away?

  “How have you been?” she asked.

  Monica was watching the exchange with the same rapt fascination that he was. She tiptoed over to his side.

  “I can’t complain,” Glenmore said. “The company is expanding, and we are set to build a new park in Fairy Tails. How have you been?”

  She lifted her chin. “I’ve been well. I’m retired now, so I have more time to read and cook and take walks through town. I have wonderful friends that I spend time with regularly, and of course, our two perfect children are so good to me. They make sure I’m never without their company.”

  “We are quite blessed to have them,” Glenmore replied. He still hadn’t let go of her hand.

  Michael loudly cleared his throat. “Well, I’m starved. We should get going.”

  His parents finally stepped away from each other. Michael grabbed his belongings before ushering everyone out the door.

  Samira hung back while he locked up. “We’ll start digging, Mikey. Do our search of the Cadal Manor. I’ll let you know if we find anything. Especially about this Spindle.”

  “Thanks, Mira,” he said while bent over the doorknob. “I appreciate that.”

  He felt a cold hand on his cheek, drawing his head up.

  Samira cupped his chin. “I had a great time the other night. I hope we can do it again, soon.”

  He smiled. Michael and Samira had spent the entire night eating Chinese food, watching old movies, and just talking about everything and anything. It was just like the old days when they were young and broke and all they had was a tiny apartment and each other.

  “I hope so too,” he said softly. “But first I have to survive tonight.”

  Samira laughed. “Good luck.”

  Michael waved her off, then jogged to catch up with his family in the parking lot. “Whose car are we taking?” Michael asked.

  “I thought we would take my car. It’s parked on the next street,” replied Glenm
ore. He set off and the three of them trailed behind.

  “Dad, please tell me you didn’t bring the”—they rounded the corner—“limo.”

  The elegant stretch limo looked entirely out of place in the alley between a donut shop and a sneaker store, but his dad strode to the car and slid inside when the driver opened the door.

  Monica elbowed him when she caught Michael pinching the bridge of his nose. “Michael, stop being so sour. This is the first time in years that the four of us have had dinner together. We’re going to have fun. I promise.”

  “I’m holding you to that promise.”

  Michael stepped into the limo after her and the door slammed shut. This was it. No way out.

  “Where are we going for dinner?” Monica asked.

  “I’ve been hearing great things about a new place called Gracie’s. I booked us a reservation, but we could go somewhere else if you like.”

  “That’s perfect,” Monica said. “Gracie is a friend of mine.”

  His family launched into an easy conversation, while Michael leaned his head back and kept silent. After a few minutes, he felt a hand on his.

  “Baby, are you okay?”

  “Fine, Mom,” he said softly. “Are you?”

  She smiled. “I’m always okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Michael got the feeling there was a separate meaning behind that response, but he couldn’t puzzle it out.

  The ride to Gracie’s was short. Soon the driver was opening up their door to let them out again.

  “Grimm family. Party of four,” his father announced to the host.

  “Right this way, sir.”

  Michael looked around as they were led to their table. It was hard to believe he had been here only a few days ago. A few days ago, he was worried about how he would keep the doors of Grimm Investigations open. A few days ago, Samira wanted nothing to do with him. A few days ago, Beauty Cadal was alive and well.

  The waiter led them around a pillar and seated them at a table in the back. They took their menus with thanks and quietly studied their options.

  Their father was the first to put his menu down. “Anything tempt you?”