Beauty In Death

by D E Dennis

  “I’m going to get the cream pasta.” Monica dropped the menu on the table and reached for her glass of water. “What about you, Michael?”

  “The steak.”

  Glenmore turned to his mother who was sitting on his right. “And you, Kimona? It’s my treat, so please get anything you like.”

  His mother worried her lip as she studied the menu. “Thank you, Glenmore, but I think I’ll just have a salad. I don’t want anything too rich.”

  Frowning, Glenmore shifted in his seat and took her hand.

  Why did he keep taking her hand?!

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I know your health isn’t—”

  “It’s not the cancer, Glenmore.” Michael gripped the menu tighter. “I’ve been in remission for a while now, and I’m doing much better. I don’t want anything too rich because I had a big lunch. That’s all.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that.”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. He sounds sincere, but really who could tell with this guy?

  “Do you still make the best oxtail this side of the coast?” his father was saying.

  Kimona laughed. “Of course, I do. I’ve yet to meet another person who could hold a candle to my oxtail, although our son is giving me a run for my money.”

  “Ah, you’ve taught him everything you know.”

  “That I have.”

  The two dissolved into laughter.

  Michael abruptly got to his feet. “I have to go to the bathroom.” They did not seem to hear him and he fled.

  Michael rushed into the men’s room, splashed some cold water on his face, and took a deep breath. This was too bizarre. It was like the last twenty-odd years had been erased from everyone’s mind, and he was the only one who remembered.

  He took a minute to collect himself, then came back out and headed for his table. The sound of his mother’s laughter floated over the tables and reached his ears. He pulled up short and stepped behind a pillar, watching the three of them interact.

  He didn’t know how long he stood there watching, but at some point, Monica stood and walked away from the table.

  She caught him as she passed by the pillar. “What are you doing?” she said, goggling at him.

  “Shh!” Michael grabbed her hand and dragged her next to him. “Look at them.”

  Monica peered around. “What am I looking at?”

  “Mom and Dad.”

  “And why am I looking at them?”

  “Look at what Mom’s doing,” he said impatiently.

  Monica looked again. She screwed up her face. “What? Laughing?”

  “Exactly,” he hissed. “Why is she laughing? Since when is Dad funny? Dad was never funny.”

  “Mom clearly thinks he’s funny.”

  “What is happening here? They have been separated for decades. They don’t like each other. They never liked each other.”

  “They liked each other at one point, brother dear, or else you and I wouldn’t exist. But if you ask me, I’ve always thought they were both still in love with each— Oh my goodness.”

  Before their very eyes, Kimona lifted her hand and placed it on Glenmore’s. She leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

  Michael’s eyes bugged out while Monica gasped. “That’s the move. Mom just gave Dad the move.”

  “No, she didn’t. There was no move. You can’t prove there was a move,” he replied, shaking his head furiously.

  Monica would not be dissuaded.

  Squealing, she grabbed Michael’s arm and shook him. “What if Mom and Dad get back together?”

  “We don’t want them to get back together,” he snapped.

  Monica rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been hoping for this since I was four.”

  “You knew this would happen,” he accused. “This was your plan all along.”

  Laughing, Monica gave him a look that was part amused and part sympathetic. “It’s official. You’re cracking up, bro.”

  She strode off to the bathroom, shaking her head all the way.

  Michael smoothed out his scowl, before returning to the table. His parents looked up when he approached.

  “There you are, Michael,” his father said. “The waiter came, and I ordered your steak.”

  “Thanks,” he said stiffly.

  “Kimmy and I have just been talking about your private detective agency.”

  Kimmy?

  “You’ve been making quite a name for yourself. I’m proud of you.”

  Michael inclined his head in acknowledgment of the praise.

  “I worry about my babies though,” Kimona said. “Chasing down killers and poisoners. Michael has already been attacked once.”

  Glenmore’s gaze sharpened. “You’ve been attacked?”

  Michael held up a hand. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. There was a cat and a... hose. My point is that it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Can’t blame us for worrying. You are our children.”

  “Monica’s got my back, and I’ve got hers. We will be fine, Dad.”

  “I know you’re both determined to make it work, and I support you. You can come to me whenever you need help. I’ll do what I can.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, Dad. But saying you’ll support us, and actually showing support are two different things.”

  “Michael,” his mother said warningly, but his father’s smile did not go anywhere.

  “That is absolutely correct, which is why I was more than happy to loan you the money you needed for the business. I wanted to show my support.”

  Maybe it was the dull roar that had suddenly sounded in his ear, but Michael found himself saying, “What did you just say? Loaned me money for the business?”

  He nodded. “Yes, and I was glad Monica called. It was always your dream to be a police officer and work in law enforcement. Helping you—”

  Michael stood up so fast his chair tipped over and toppled to the ground.

  “Michael?” his mother questioned in alarm.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said dully. “But something just came up. I have to go.”

  Michael righted the chair, ignored his parents’ protests, and marched away from the table. He passed Monica as she came out of the bathroom.

  “Hey, Michael, what’s— Wait, where are you going?”

  Michael blew past her without responding. Escaping the restaurant, he burst out into the cool night air and he did what he always did, when his mind was too jumbled for anything to get through.

  He ran.

  MICHAEL RAN UNTIL HE reached the square and then he jogged his normal route leading back to his apartment.

  Feet aching and heart pounding, Michael trudged up the stairs to his apartment. Someone was waiting for him in front of his door.

  Monica turned her glare up to maximum when she laid eyes on him. “There you are! What happened? I had the driver rush over here to meet you. Why did you just take off like that?”

  Michael glanced at her, then turned to put his key into the lock. “I just needed some air. So, I left.” He said this with the emotion of a mannequin.

  She scoffed and pushed through into his apartment the moment he got the door open.

  “Just needed some air? This is because of what Dad said, isn’t it? You’re mad because I borrowed money from him.”

  Michael felt his anger trying to break through, but he stamped down on it. He moved into the kitchen with his sister trailing him. Tossing his wallet and keys on the counter, he schooled his expression before turning back to her. “Didn’t you know it would upset me? Isn’t that why you did it behind my back?”

  She winced. “I wanted to tell you. I should have told you, but I’m the one who balances the books, Michael. You have no idea how close we’ve come to having to shut our doors. We would have lost everything. It’s not just us we have to think about. If we can’t help Mom with the bills, she’ll have to come out of retirement. If we can’t pay Ella, she’ll have to go back to working
three jobs. I had no choice.”

  “You had a choice, and you chose to go to Dad instead of coming to me. I could have—”

  “Could have what?” she cried. “What could you have done that you weren’t already doing? You work yourself to the bone, falling asleep at your desk most nights, all for Grimm Investigations.”

  “I could have worked harder. I could have fallen asleep at my desk every night, or taken on more cases, or gotten another job. I would have done a million other things... before I went to Dad. I don’t want his money. I don’t want him in my business.”

  “Now it’s ‘your’ business? Funny. I thought it was ours.” Monica crossed her arms. “I won’t apologize for what I did. I did what I had to do for the four of us, and one day, when you put old grudges aside, you’ll see that.”

  Michael stiffened. “You want to make this about me, but the fact is we’re partners, Monica, and partners don’t go behind each other’s backs. I thought I could trust you.”

  She reeled back like his words were a physical blow. “Michael,” she said, eyes filling with tears. “You can trust me. You know you can.”

  Shaking his head, he peeled himself off the counter and headed for his room. “Lock the door when you leave.”

  He shut his door with a firm click.

  THE ATMOSPHERE WAS frosty when Ella came in the next morning, but she did not remark on it right away. Placing her things on her desk, she held up a box. “I brought donuts again. I thought you would like something to eat before you speak to Marcus Pepper.”

  Michael mumbled a “thanks.” Monica just gave a grunt.

  “Is everything okay with you two?” Ella finally asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Fine.”

  “Okay... if you’re sure.”

  When the clock read nine, Michael turned off his laptop and pushed away from his desk. Monica stood as well, and they both tramped out of the office and into his car without a word.

  The ride was made in complete silence. They had gotten into fights before. They have given each other the silent treatment before. But never like this.

  Michael turned out of the roundabout and parked his car in the tiny lot next to the square. They stepped out and approached the lone figure sitting on a bench.

  “Marcus Pepper,” Monica said, easily slipping into her role of investigator. “Thank you for meeting with us.”

  He stood to shake their hands but did not retake his seat. “Sure, but I don’t know if I can be of much help.” His voice was like crunching gravel. It added to his intimidating presence, not that the bulging muscles and significant height differences weren’t intimidating enough. He was taller than Michael and Michael wasn’t short by anyone’s definition.

  Michael studied him and quickly let go of any notion that the killer could have gotten past him.

  I wish they had tried. They would have ended up wailing in a headlock, and Beauty would still be alive. But if they didn’t get around Marcus, then how did they do it?

  “Anything you can tell us would be helpful at this point,” Michael said. “Can you explain the security setup for the party?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. As I said before there were three of us. Two posted at the door of the ballroom and one walking the room, making sure everything was in order. If someone didn’t know their way around or needed to leave the room to go to the bathroom or kitchen, James or I would escort them to and from.”

  “So between the three of you, at least one person was at the door all night?” Monica asked.

  “That’s right, ma’am.”

  “How long have you been providing security for the Cadals?”

  “James and I have been working for the Cadal family for a year. Ever since the studio light at Kingdom Films almost fell on Miss Beauty.”

  “You were hired before the strawberry juice incident. What happened with that? Did you see anything?”

  Marcus straightened. “All I know is the friend, Emma French, ordered the drinks for the group. She walked away, and then came back to pick up the tray from the bartender. They both claim they didn’t see anyone go near the drinks, but we can’t be sure. We weren’t at the club that night.”

  “Why not? Weren’t you hired to follow her around?”

  “Yes. Her parents hired us, but Miss Beauty was still an adult. We backed off when she told us she didn’t want us on her tail. Then we would come back to do it again.”

  “And is that what happened the night of the party? She left the room ordering you to stay put, and that was the last you saw of her, until you found her at the bottom of the stairs.”

  “Yes.”

  “No one was out of the room while she was?”

  “Several people went in and out,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Michael blinked at him. “Wait. You said on the night of the party that no one left after Beauty.”

  He shook his massive head. “No, I said that no one left with Beauty. She left the room alone, but a few people came before and after.”

  Michael turned toward Monica to share their signature look, but he halted when he remembered they were in a fight. He twisted back.

  “Who left the ballroom?” Monica asked.

  He rattled off the names. “The boyfriend went out for a bit. Then that girl Emma. The party planner. A woman in a green dress and mask. Mrs. Cadal and Mr. Cadal. They all stepped out for a while, and most of them returned before nine o’clock, when we went looking for Miss Beauty.”

  “Most of them?” they asked at the same time.

  “What do you mean most of them?” Michael questioned, zeroing in. “You told us all the guests were back in the ballroom before she fell.”

  “All of the guests were,” he said simply. “But Mr. Cadal wasn’t a guest. He left again to go get the cake. He was going to wheel it in after the big show, when everyone was set to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”

  “You should have told us this before,” Michael said through gritted teeth.

  Marcus stared down at him, face impassive. “You didn’t ask before.”

  Michael was tempted to tell this overly literal bodyguard what he thought of that response, but he knew it was just his anger at Monica and his dad riling him up.

  “Thank you for your help, Mr. Pepper,” Monica said, saving him from having to respond. “That’s all for now.”

  The Grimm siblings said their goodbyes then walked back to their car.

  It was looking to be another drive in oppressive silence until Monica burst out, “Michael, why didn’t Charles tell us he wasn’t in the room?”

  “Maybe it’s like Marcus said... we didn’t ask.”

  “It’s strange that he would hide that from us. We’ve been wracking our brains trying to figure out how someone got past the guards, and he was past them the whole time.”

  “I know what you’re thinking, but what motive would he have to push his own daughter down the stairs?”

  “I don’t know, Michael. We never asked.”

  Chapter Five

  Michael and Monica went back to the office to chart suspects and alibis, but they didn’t do it with the whiteboard nor did they do it together.

  They each sat at their desks, and the only sounds they made were the faint tappings on their keyboards and the occasional scratchings of a pen. Every now and then, Michael saw Ella toss them a worried look, but he didn’t address it.

  “Bye, guys,” Ella said as she packed up to leave for class. She paused in the doorway. “I hope you guys work out whatever is wrong.”

  “Bye, Ella.”

  Michael glanced at Monica to see she was looking back at him.

  He took a deep breath. “Truce?”

  Monica broke out into a smile. “Yes. Truce.”

  Jumping out of his seat, Michael ran over to give her a hug. Monica was already up with her arms out. He hated fighting with her. As sad as many people told him it was, Monica was his best friend. They had been through the worst together.

 
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have gone behind your back.”

  “No, but you had a good reason. You were right. It’s not just us who will be affected if Grimm Investigations fails.”

  Monica stepped back, chuckling. “I was right? There was a time when you never would have admitted I was right when it comes to Dad. Maybe you are maturing.”

  He grinned. “I am in my thirties now. It had to happen sometime.” His grin faded. “Besides, the work we’ve been doing has opened my eyes to truly terrible parents. Dad and I may have our issues. but at least he never threw me down a flight of stairs.”

  Monica’s smile fell away too. “Are we really doing this? Looking at Charles Cadal as a suspect?”

  “We’re going to look at everyone as a suspect from now on. We need to start asking the right questions.”

  “Where do we begin?”

  He jerked his head toward the breakroom. They moved inside and took up their usual seats.

  “I have nothing but feelings right now,” Michael said. “That Gabe is holding something back. That there was more to Emma’s toxic relationship with Beauty than she let on. And, that we need to peel back the grieving parents mask and see if there is anything underneath. But, most importantly, we need to find out who James Spindle is.”

  “Your feelings are usually spot-on, but there are a few issues. I don’t think we are going to get any more out of Gabe than we have already. Without Beauty’s phone, we have no idea how to figure out who James Spindle is, and the Cadals hired us. If they find out we are investigating them, we’ll be fired quicker than you can say bippity boppity boo.”

  Michael snorted. “I can’t say that at all, so we are in trouble.”

  They laughed but not for long.

  Leaning back into the cushion, Michael chewed his lip as he thought. “I agree with you about talking to Gabe. While he’s insisting that he didn’t have strong feelings for Beauty and talking in cryptic riddles, it’s just a waste of time. We’re going to have to get creative where he is concerned.”

  “Ooh, I’m intrigued.”

  “We can’t do anything about the phone except keep looking for it and hope the killer didn’t fling it into Siren Woods, never to be seen again.”