Beauty In Death

by D E Dennis

  Michael’s stomach twisted. Having Claudia, or the pale, trembling copy of Claudia, thank him for messing up was too much.

  “Claudia, please do not thank me. I don’t deserve it.”

  She blinked at him, eyes bloodshot. “What do you mean?”

  He took her hands. “Claudia, your husband did not kill your daughter. Charles is innocent.”

  “B-but the phone—”

  “It was not him.” Michael raised his head, and his voice along with it. “Charles Cadal did not kill his daughter, and I’m going to prove it. You have been through so much, Mrs. Cadal. I won’t let you lose your husband too.”

  She stood in stunned silence as Michael patted her hand and turned away. He looked down his audience. Minnie Choi peeked at him from under her parasol. Emma, Dora, Donna, and Mary stared at him impassively, while Gabriel sneered.

  “Okay, I think that is enough excitement for one day. It’s time for you to lie down, darling,” Malia said, stepping around Gabriel. She gathered a frail Claudia in her arms. “Come now, I’ll make you some tea.”

  Monica tugged on his sleeve, and Michael let himself be pulled away.

  They were almost to the car, when a hard shove sent Michael pitching forward.

  “Hey!” his sister cried.

  Michael spun around and caught Monica’s arm, before she could knock Gabriel’s head off.

  “It’s okay, sis,” he said coolly, dusting off his suit. “I can handle this.”

  “You got some big ones, Grimm,” Gabriel hissed, face red. “Coming up in here, shouting about that perv being innocent. Beauty’s gone! She’s dead! And you want to keep raking this back up for what? Money? Media attention?”

  “You seem mad, Silva?” Michael figured he would join in on the last names.

  “Yeah, I’m mad!”

  “That’s interesting because the other day you said you didn’t care about Beauty. You guys were just ‘hanging out’ and you couldn’t be bothered to visit her in the hospital.”

  He flinched. “That— That wasn’t—”

  “How you truly felt? I know that. You cared about Beauty. You always have. Even before you started dating her.”

  Gabriel took a step back, eyes darting around. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re quite the photographer, aren’t you, Gabe? And Beauty was your muse, whether she knew it or not.”

  Gabe’s eyes bugged out. “Y-you— It was you! You were in my dorm!”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think I was, Gabriel, but I know you were wherever Beauty was. Following her around, waiting, watching. What happened? When the studio light didn’t do the trick, did you decide you had to get closer to her, to make sure the job was done right this time?”

  “The job?” He screwed up his face. “You think I killed her?! Are you insane? I loved her. I was trying to protect her.”

  “Protect her from what?”

  “Protect her from the person who actually dropped the light, you idiot! Honestly, you call yourself a detective.”

  Monica scowled. “Why don’t you set us straight then?

  Crossing his arms, he met their eyes defiantly. “The first time I saw Beauty was at the CRU open house. I knew from that moment we were meant to be together. She was unreal. A goddess among petty, jealous mortals, who could never measure up to her. I could never measure up to her.

  “So I waited, hoping one day she would pick me. But then I went to see her at the studio, she was in the spot where she liked to practice her lines, and I watched her run through them.” His eyes became unfocused. “She was perfect. Such talent.” He shook himself. “Then out of nowhere, the light comes crashing down. Everyone called it an accident, but I thought I saw someone up there, just before it fell. After that, I couldn’t wait anymore. We had to be together so at least I could be near to protect her.”

  Monica scoffed. “What a load of dirty laundry.”

  “It’s true,” he protested.

  “If you really loved Beauty like you claimed, why have you been pretending otherwise?”

  “Because—”

  “Because why?”

  “Because of Spindle,” Michael cut in. He smiled as finally the picture of Gabriel came into focus. “You told us there would be no article in Mirror, Mirror because you knew all along that Spindle was a fake. I’m guessing you snooped through her phone and emails and discovered she was getting friendly with another guy. You looked him up yourself, but he didn’t exist. So what did you do? Nothing. You sat back in the shadows, watching and waiting for Beauty to receive a rude awakening. Her online lover boy was deceiving her, and she was about to give up her life, her friends, and the man who truly loves her, for a catfish. But why should you care? She deserves it.”

  “I’m the one who loved her!” he exploded. “I protected her, but what does she say when I tell her how I feel? She says, ‘it’s only been eight months, Gabe. We’re just hanging out so turn the clinginess way down.’ That’s when I realized she wasn’t a goddess or anything special. She was just another silly college girl.

  “By then I knew I was wrong about someone tampering with the light. It had been over a year, and if someone was after her, they would have tried something. The only thing that happened was a random mix-up with her drink at a club, and that was nothing. She didn’t need my protection, and she didn’t deserve my love so, yeah, I said nothing about that Spindle guy. I wanted to see the look on her face when a person she thought loved her, made a fool of her.” He sniffed, balling his fists. “And when that happened, she would be sorry for the way she treated me. She would have seen that I was the only one for her. That was what was supposed to happen. Spindle wasn’t supposed to kill her. He wasn’t supposed to be her... dad.”

  With that, Gabriel burst into tears. The Grimm siblings shared a look.

  Then Monica stepped forward. “It wasn’t her dad,” she said, patting his shoulder. “But you can help us find out who it really was.”

  “H-how?”

  “Tell us everything you saw that day at the studio, and every other day you followed Beauty around without her knowing. Maybe you ran across her other stalker.”

  MICHAEL MUMBLED TO himself as he erased the whiteboard and started again. He was almost through his new list of suspects, when the marker was snatched out of his hands.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “I’m forcing you to take a break. We spent all morning and half the afternoon going through Gabriel’s creepshots looking for anyone who stood out. Then you came straight back here to obsess over your precious whiteboard.”

  “I have to figure this out, Mo. Charles is sitting in prison right now with the world thinking the worst of him.”

  “It’s nine o’clock at night. Accept that you won’t be getting him out of jail tonight and take a breath.” She grasped his arm and led him over to the couch. “Relax. Sit. Watch a movie with your favorite sister and your favorite assistant.”

  “My only sister and assistant,” he grumbled. Ella marched into the room laden with popcorn. “What are you still doing here?”

  “Monica and I have been wanting to see this film for a while. I rented it so we could watch together.”

  “What is it?” he asked as he got comfortable.

  “Killer Beach House 3.”

  Michael lurched to his feet. “I really should get to work. An innocent man’s life is on the—”

  “Sit down.” Monica laughed as she dragged him back. “I know you don’t like horror movies, but you can just cover your eyes for the scary bits.”

  “How does that help if I can still hear the screaming, blood, and gore?”

  “We’ll mute it too. See. Compromise. Now stop complaining and pass the popcorn. Ella, queue it up.”

  Michael sighed and accepted his fate.

  As predicted, half the movie had to be muted and watched through the cracks in his fingers. When it was finally over, Monica patted him on the shoulder.

  “Go home
, bro. Sleep. Try not to have nightmares.”

  “The nightmares are a given,” he grumbled. “What are you going to do?”

  She laughed. “I’m going to stay and watch the movie. I didn’t get to hear most of it.”

  “Alright.” Michael stood to leave but paused in the doorway. “Anyone... want to walk me to my car?”

  “Get out!” Ella and Monica laughingly pelted him with pillows and leftover popcorn.

  “I get no sympathy,” he griped as he gathered his things and headed for the door. “You forced me to watch the movie, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I’ll remember this, Monica Grimm.”

  He closed the door on their laughter with a smile on his face. Michael’s shoes were soundless as he walked through the hallway.

  Pushing through the doors, Michael shivered as the blast of cold air ripped through him.

  Monica was right. What he needed was a hot shower, a plate of leftovers, and a good night’s sleep.

  Michael fished his keys out of his pocket and strode to his car, already thinking of the leftover Thai food waiting for him at home.

  Footsteps sounded behind him.

  Chuckling, Michael said, “Come to apologize, Mo? I’m cool now. Made it to the car safe and—”

  He turned his head just as something passed over his eyes and settled around his neck. He didn’t have time to think before it tightened.

  Michael twisted, his hands scrabbling at his neck.

  In a panic, he threw himself backward and crashed into his attacker. They fell to the ground in a heap, Michael on top, and for a blessed second their hold loosened.

  “H-help!” he got out, before he was pushed off and rolled onto the pavement. He felt a weight settle onto his back and then on his throat.

  Gasping, Michael clawed at his neck in frantic desperation as the black creeping into his vision crowded everything else out... and he fell into darkness.

  “—FOUND HIM LYING THERE—”

  “—heard Ella’s scream—”

  “—saw no one—”

  “—my brother, please, help him!”

  Michael was fading in and out. Bits and snippets tried to reach him in the place he was in, but he was too weak to follow them.

  “—nightmares—”

  “—come to apologize—”

  “—can still hear the screaming—”

  He could make no distinction between what had happened and what was happening now.

  “—forced me to watch the movie—”

  “—my baby!”

  “—we’ll mute it—”

  “When I find out who did this to my son, there will be no safe place for them to hide.”

  Michael struggled back to the surface, fighting the haze that kept him under.

  “—heard her scream—”

  “Scream!”

  Gasping, Michael’s eyes flew open.

  “Michael!”

  Wincing in the glare of the harsh hospital lights, Michael turned his head just in time to see one hundred and ten pounds of Monica Grimm launch herself at him.

  Oomph!

  “Michael, you’re awake! Are you okay!? What happened!?”

  She clutched him in a fierce hug as she pelted him with questions.

  “Who did this to you?!”

  His response was a groan.

  “Monica, give him some room to breathe,” his mother ordered. She appeared at his bedside with three other people right on her heels. Michael squinted until they came into focus. Ella, Samira, and Glenmore stared back at him, a strange mix of worry and relief on their faces.

  Monica released him and stepped back. His mother was quick to take her place.

  “Who did this to you, Michael?” she said, fury making her voice shake. “Who?! When I find them, I’ll—”

  A massive ache where his neck should be, Michael struggled to lift his head. “I—” he croaked.

  Everyone collectively leaned in.

  “Monica, get your brother some water.”

  “Take your time, son,” Glenmore said.

  Monica came back with a cup and brought it to his lips. He drank greedily, then tried again.

  “I... know...”

  “You know who did it?” Samira said, eyes blazing. “I’ll pick them up right now and put them in a hole so dark they won’t be able to find their hands, let alone put them on someone else!”

  “I know,” Michael rasped. “I know... how the killer was in two places at once. I solved the case.”

  With that, he dropped his head back and let his subconscious claim him again.

  THE NEXT TIME HE WOKE was a lot less eventful. The room was dim, with only a small lamplight for his father to read by.

  “Dad?”

  Glenmore’s head shot up. “Son, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  Michael freed his hand from the tangle of blankets and felt around, but his father was already there, pressing the remote into his hands.

  “Here.”

  The soft beeps and whirls of machines filled the room as Michael raised the bed so he could meet his father at eye level. For a while, those soft beeps were the only sounds made as the two men gazed at each other.

  “Who did this to you, Michael?” Glenmore asked. Shadows partially obscured his face, making him look as grim as their name.

  “I don’t know,” Michael said honestly. “I didn’t see who it was.” He tried to get his sluggish brain working. Where was his famous intuition when he needed it? “I think... they were shorter than me. When I fell on them, I think they got a mouthful of my back, not my hair.” He sighed, resting his head against the pillows. “Not that that helps much. Most people are shorter than me.”

  Glenmore closed the distance between them. “Can you think of anything else? Anything at all.”

  Michael chewed his lip. “No,” he croaked. “All I can remember is something cool around my neck.”

  “Cool?”

  “Yeah.” It was coming into focus now, aided by trauma. “And smooth. I clawed at it, but my nails just glanced off.”

  “Well, that could be something. We’ll be sure to let the detectives know, when they come back.”

  Michael nodded. “Where are Mom and Monica?” he asked hoarsely.

  “I sent your sister home with Detective Reddy. Whoever attacked you might have her in their sights as well. As for your mother, she is sleeping in the family room. She told me in colorful and no uncertain terms that she wasn’t leaving this hospital until you do.”

  Michael cracked a smile. “Sounds like Mom.” Cautiously turning his head, he studied his father. “But why are you still here?”

  Glenmore frowned. “Because my son was attacked and almost killed. Where else would I be, Michael?”

  He shrugged. “The same place you’ve been all of my life. On the other side, pretending you don’t have a family.”

  “Excuse me?” he said, nostrils flaring. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  Michael scoffed. “Don’t pretend to be slighted, Dad. You can’t blame me for questioning why you’re here now, when you never were before. Just the other day, I walked out of dinner and you didn’t even bother to follow me or call.”

  “I wanted to,” he protested. “But Monica told me to give you time to cool off. She said she would talk you around, and you would come to me when you were ready.”

  Michael just shook his head, looking away. He let the silence spread between them.

  “I don’t understand what you want from me, Michael,” Glenmore burst out. “If I try to be a part of your life, you push me away. If I give you space, then you say that I don’t care. I’ve made mistakes. Ones I will regret for the rest of my life, but I’m trying to do things differently now. What will it take for you to see that?”

  Turning back to his father, Michael’s response was, “I didn’t see who attacked me, but I’m doing fine now. There is nothing more you can do, so you should go.”
/>   Glenmore’s jaw clenched. Michael saw about a hundred emotions war on his face, but whatever he wanted to say was swallowed.

  “I would rather stay if you don’t mind,” Glenmore said evenly. “Your mother wants someone with you at all times, and she needs to get some sleep. I’ll be here until she takes over.”

  Michael shrugged and flipped over. “Suit yourself.”

  Closing his eyes, he heard his father retake his seat and continue reading his book. He didn’t know how long he lay there, listening to the whisper of pages, but there was no relief when he drifted off to sleep. The echoes of all the things he wanted to say followed him into his dreams.

  Chapter Eight

  “Why won’t you just take it easy?” Monica griped. “Someone tried to kill you. I’d say that’s a good excuse for a vacation.”

  “I told you. I have a theory about how the killer managed to do it. I have to prove it, so we can get Charles out of jail.”

  Michael had been released from the hospital that morning after a short two-night stay. His police escort, Samira, took him straight home where his mother and sister were waiting to fawn over him. It took him hours to convince them to let him go to the office and get back to work. He had a killer to catch.

  “Michael, you need to rest,” Samira piped up from the passenger seat. “You can’t work this case if you end up back in the hospital.”

  “My throat is still sore but otherwise I’m fine. The best thing for me, Monica, and Ella, is to catch the killer so that we don’t have to look over our shoulders whenever we leave the office.”

  “The best thing for us would have been for you to not go shouting your mouth off about Charles being innocent and you on a mission to prove it,” Monica shot back. “No wonder they came after you. You definitely could have handled that better.”

  “True,” he agreed. “But because of what I said, they made a horrible mistake.”