Beauty In Death

by D E Dennis

  “Surely they didn’t blame Beauty for that?”

  Shrugging, Samira took another bite of pasta. “They might have resented her,” she said after swallowing. “They were back looking after a rich, spoiled princess who didn’t appreciate their hard work.”

  “It is possible. Marcus did say he saw a woman in Dora’s signature green leave the room just before Beauty did.”

  “We need a complete list of the people who were in and out of that room while Beauty was gone. Most we have to assume were just popping out to the bathroom, but someone snuck out to wait at the top of that staircase.”

  “They would have left the room before her and then returned after she left. Let’s hope Marcus Pepper remembers.

  “We’ll bring him in and write up a detailed timeline for the night.” Out of nowhere she sighed, and dropped her fork in the bowl. “We should have done all of this in the beginning. Searching the house, bringing in witnesses, dusting for prints. I wanted to, but the chief wouldn’t sign on to ‘waste police resources on an accident.’ If I had pushed, the killer would have been caught days ago, and you wouldn’t have been attacked.”

  Now it was Michael’s turn to talk her down. “This wasn’t your fault, Mira. You had every reason to believe Beauty tripped over her impossibly high heels and that was the end of it. A missing phone wasn’t proof, and reticent bodyguards and seemingly iron-clad alibis had all of us stumped.” He placed his bowl on the table and looked her in the eye. “We’ve been dancing to the tune of a clever killer, but that stops now.”

  MICHAEL PROMISED SAMIRA a quiet day. He let her relax on the sofa with a book, while he charted out suspects, timelines, and motives on the whiteboard he had stashed at home. He was at it all day, breaking only to have dinner and go to the bathroom.

  “Any closer to a breakthrough?” Samira asked as she dog-eared the page of her book and set it aside.

  “No breakthrough, but I do have the beginnings of a plan. If you don’t mind an audience, I would like to sit in on your interview with Pepper. Get working on that timeline straight away.”

  “I did say you were my new partner.”

  “Excellent. Then the three of us can swing by after Cadal Manor. It was easy for everyone to tell us they were in the ballroom at nine, because it was the truth. Now let’s see how they act when we bring up the killer’s little trick and ask where they were when Beauty actually fell.”

  “Don’t you think we should hold on to that information? Why reveal to the killer what we know?”

  Michael dropped the marker on the table and went to join her. “The killer is off-balance and feeling desperate. Why else would they have run the risk of getting caught by attacking me in a public parking lot? They don’t like that I’m still investigating, and they fear I’ll get too close. When they find out we know about the DVD and their alibi falls apart, they will panic, and that fear will be clear to anyone who knows how to look for it.”

  “You rely on your ability to read people, Mikey, but it won’t always be as easy as a shifty eye and a suspiciously sweaty brow.”

  “I know, but my gut hasn’t failed me yet. I’ll trust it until it does.”

  “Let’s hope that day never comes.” Samira patted his hand and then heaved herself off the couch. “It’s getting late,” she said as she stretched. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “I’ll make up the couch and sleep out here. The bed is all yours.”

  Rolling her eyes, she bent down and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. “We can share the same bed, Mikey. We’ve certainly done it before.”

  “But that was when we were together,” he argued, goose bumps springing up all over his skin.

  “Don’t worry about it. I trust you to be a perfect gentleman. Now, give me something to change into so we can get some sleep. It’s been a long day and tomorrow will be even longer.”

  Michael could have protested harder. He should have. But for reasons he didn’t look into too deeply, he let himself be dragged into the bedroom. He dug out an oversized t-shirt and a loose pair of sweats and handed them to her.

  While she changed in the bathroom, Michael got dressed in his room. They switched places after she came out. After his teeth were flossed, brushed, and mouthwashed, he padded into his room to find Samira tucked in his bed, making herself comfortable.

  He grinned. “I actually sleep on the right side of the bed now.”

  She didn’t move. “Tough.”

  Michael laughed and climbed inside, pulling the cover up to his chin.

  “What time should I set the alarm?” he asked.

  “Seven.”

  He flipped over to set the time, and then hit the switch on his lamp. The room was plunged into darkness. Michael let his eyes adjust before turning back to Samira. Her brown orbs shone clearly, looking back at him.

  “Michael?”

  “Yes?”

  “About that almost kiss?”

  He froze, not even daring to breathe too hard.

  “I don’t want this to be another thing that hangs in the space between us,” she continued. “Always there, but never talked about, so I want to be clear. A new relationship between us isn’t possible while the old one is still unresolved. So I’m going to need you to turn down that Grimm charm just a bit.”

  He gave her a tentative smile. “I can try.”

  They fell silent for a while, still staring into each other’s eyes.

  “And, Michael?”

  “Yes,” he said softly, shifting closer to her.

  “Do you still snore?”

  “I never snored,” he cried indignantly.

  She giggled. “I guess I’ll find out if that’s true.”

  He sniffed and rolled over. “Good night, Mira.”

  “Night, Mikey.”

  MICHAEL HELD THE DOOR open for Samira and let her climb in before moving around to the driver’s seat.

  “Swing by my place so I can change out of these clothes,” Samira said when he got in. “It won’t take long.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The next day dawned foggy and gray with a chill in the air that just wouldn’t quit. Despite his lingering worries, waking up that morning next to Samira hadn’t been weird or awkward. They got up, showered, ate breakfast, and started their day with the familiarity of old friends. Michael was glad of that, even while his traitorous brain tormented him with visions of their almost kiss, and how it could have been if they had gotten it right.

  “Oh, Michael, if you were wondering...?”

  Michael took his eyes off the road and glanced at her. “Yeah?”

  “You still snore.”

  “I never snored, and I don’t now!”

  And that argument began anew, picking up where they fell off almost a decade ago.

  Michael pulled up in front of her building.

  “Tonight, I’m going to record you and prove it,” she said. Then she climbed out and slammed the door shut.

  Michael shook his head at her retreating back.

  I really need to solve this case.

  As promised, she didn’t take long. She settled back in and Michael pulled out of the lot.

  “Mira?” he began.

  “Yeah?”

  “Is Charles Cadal at the CRPD right now?”

  “In a holding cell. Why?”

  “I’d like to talk to him if that’s possible. This whole James Spindle thing, I don’t want to believe that it’s him, but if it is I need to look him in the face and ask why.”

  “How will it help you to know why?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “I just need to understand.”

  “These things can’t always be understood. Not all fathers are good ones.”

  “Believe me, I know that.” He stopped at a light and turned to her. “But I don’t think Charles is one of them. You were right that he could still be James and he could have taken the phone even if he didn’t kill her but despite what he does for a living, I don’t think he’s that goo
d of an actor. His grief is real. His desire to find the killer was real. There’s more going on here, Mira. That, I know for certain.”

  She sighed. “If he wants to talk with you, then I’ll give you an hour with him. At this point, it can’t hurt.”

  “Thank you.”

  The drive from Samira’s apartment to the police station was a short one. Michael waved to the bored woman behind the information desk and followed Samira back into the bullpen. It was no livelier in here than it was the last time he visited. Although this time, the cop occupying the space across from Spencer was sleeping under his desk instead of on top of it.

  “Aren’t you glad you chose the private investigator route instead of all this glamour and glory?”

  He snorted. “I feel better and better about it every time I visit. Seriously, what do you guys do between cases?”

  She waved her hand at Spencer. “You’re looking at it.”

  “Hey, Mira.” Spencer didn’t look up from his construction project. The pencil and rubber band house was actually coming out pretty well. “What’s the ghoul doing with you?”

  “Michael,” she said pointedly, “was attacked outside Grimm Investigations. We assume it’s connected to the Cadal case, so I’m assigned to protect him until this is wrapped up.”

  “Attacked?” He jumped out of his seat. “Is Monica okay?”

  “I’m doing just fine, Spencer,” Michael deadpanned, “but last I checked Monica wasn’t my name.”

  He scowled at him. “If someone is after you, then they must be after her too. Why wasn’t I—I mean, why hasn’t someone been assigned to protect her too?”

  “Monica doesn’t need protection,” Michael said lightly. “No one is stupid enough to mess with her, even dangerous criminals.”

  Samira chuckled. “I have to agree with you. I’d be more worried about the killer, if they tried going after Monica next.”

  Spencer’s scowl deepened. “This isn’t funny. Where is she right now? I’m going over there.” His hands were a blur as he hurried to gather his things.

  “There would be my mother’s house,” Michael said with a shrug. “Another woman who doesn’t need protecting.”

  Spencer wasn’t listening. “Tell the chief I’m staying on her mother’s house for the rest of the day. Text me if we get a call, Mira.”

  “Will do, partner.”

  He blew out of the room like there was a favor and a kiss waiting for him behind his mother’s door, instead of what Michael knew was really waiting for him.

  “It’s just you and me now, Grimm.” Samira pulled up a spare chair for Michael to sit in then plopped into hers.

  “What time is Pepper coming?”

  “Should be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Marcus arrived in ten.

  They rose to greet him.

  “Hello, Mr. Pepper, thank you for coming in.”

  “No problem. I was told the police are officially looking at Miss Cadal’s death as a homicide. This happened on my watch, while she was under my protection. I’m happy to help however I can.”

  “Then maybe we can have straight answers this time,” Samira said pointedly. “As you said, this is a murder investigation. I don’t have patience for evasiveness.”

  He had the decency to look sheepish. “I apologize for that. I provide a lot of security for Fairy Tails residents, and discretion means more to them than the protection sometimes. I’ve learned to be tight-lipped.”

  Samira gestured. “Follow me, please. We’ll start the interview right away.”

  They stepped into one of two interrogation rooms. It was a tight space that barely had room for the metal table and chairs. Michael sat in one and grimaced.

  If they were going for claustrophobic and uncomfortable, the decorator nailed it.

  “So, Mr. Pepper,” Samira intoned after informing Marcus of his rights and telling him the session would be recorded. “What time did Beauty leave the party that night?”

  “It was just after eight o’clock.”

  “Did she say anything to you before she left?”

  “She said move.”

  “You told my colleague that you escorted guests to and from the room all night. Did this chaperoning apply to everyone?”

  “No. We were told not to bother with staff and people who already knew their way around.”

  “So Gabriel Silva, Choi Min Su, Emma French, Dora, Donna, Mary, and the Cadals all moved about freely?”

  “Yes.”

  “And not anyone else?” Samira asked. “Let’s be clear, Mr. Pepper, was there anyone outside of those nine people that you let move around without an escort.”

  “No one,” he said firmly. “Except for the servers and the party planner, everyone was escorted by me or one of my men.”

  “Can you remember the exact times they came and went?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t be that specific.”

  Michael spoke up. “You know the last time Beauty left the party, alive and well. So who returned to the room after she left?”

  He looked from Michael to Samira. “How does that help you? She did not fall until after nine.”

  “We’re working a new theory that the scream you heard was faked to give the killer an alibi. Beauty could have fallen at any point after she left, up until you found her.”

  “What? How?” he demanded.

  Samira nudged his elbow and Michael launched into an explanation of the trick. Marcus’s eyes got wider as he went.

  “But I would have known if it wasn’t a real scream.”

  “Would you?” Samira asked. “If you heard a scream of any kind and then found a woman lying at the foot of the stairs, would you really stop to question it? I’ve been on the other end of this trick and not even I did.”

  Marcus frowned but didn’t argue further. “So Miss Beauty was there the whole time, and no one knew?”

  “No one was supposed to know. Not until the killer wanted them too.”

  He cursed. “I really dropped the ball on this one.”

  “You can’t blame yourself—”

  “Then who should I blame?” he growled, fist balling. “I was hired to protect that girl, and not only did I fail, I let myself be used as a false alibi for the real killer.”

  “You still have a chance to help Beauty,” said Samira. “Tell us who returned to the room between eight and nine.”

  “Almost all of them. The monochrome ladies: Dora, Flora, Fauna, or whatever their names are. The boyfriend, Claudia Cadal, Emma French, Diragoni, and one server. Choi stayed put and Charles left just before nine. He did not show up again until after Beauty was found.”

  “Anyone out of the room long enough to commit the act?”

  He thought about it. “Not the pink one or the blue,” he finally said. “The green one was out for a while. The best friend’s mother.”

  “Dora French.”

  “That’s it. She was gone for a while. The other two came looking for her minutes before she returned.”

  Samira scribbled in her notepad and then asked again if he was certain there was no one else who left the room unescorted, but his answer was the same.

  “Okay,” she said. “Then one of these people has to be our killer.”

  Samira ended the interview, thanked Marcus for his time, and told him that he was free to leave. She left Michael in the interrogation room while she escorted him out. He reached for her notes the second she was gone.

  The name of Beauty’s killer and his attacker was staring back at him. The net was closing. Piece by piece, they were taking apart the killer’s clever plan. They would discover the face behind that mask.

  AFTER THE MARCUS INTERVIEW was over, Michael found himself standing outside another interrogation room. Charles Cadal waited for him on the other side of the door, while Samira laid down the ground rules.

  “You have an hour, like I said. Afterward, I have orders to deliver you to your mother’s house for lunch.”
>
  He blinked at her. “Who told you that?”

  “Your mom called while you were in the bathroom,” she replied, grinning. “We’ve been chatting quite a lot these past few days. Did you know she and a friend of hers have been talking about opening up their own business?”

  “Talked about that over the super-secret lunch I wasn’t invited to, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe,” she sang. She spared a chuckle but quickly got serious. “Anyway, he says he wants to talk to you in private, no cameras, but you should know right now you don’t get to claim private eye-client privilege. If he tells you something incriminating, you have to inform me.”

  “I understand,” he said simply.

  Closing his hand over the knob, Michael gave Samira a nod, before pushing through and stepping into the interrogation room.

  Charles’s head was resting on the table, but he shot up the moment he entered. Michael hissed at his appearance.

  His eyes were bloodshot and crusted with sleep. Salt-and-pepper stubble covered his face and his hair was a tangled mess of greasy locks.

  “Michael,” he breathed. “You have to help me.”

  Michael sat in the seat across from him and looked him directly in the eye. “That is what I want to do, Charles. I don’t believe you killed your daughter—”

  “I didn’t! I could never harm a hair on her head! I couldn’t even spank her when she misbehaved! It wasn’t me!”

  Michael continued like there was no interruption. “—but your prints were on the phone of James Spindle. That phone and your daughter’s were stashed away in your desk. How do you explain that?”

  “Someone must have put them there,” he cried. “Michael, I’m the one who alerted the police the phone was missing. I had the guests held back and demanded they be searched. Why would I have done that if I had taken it myself?”

  “You would have done that because you had taken it. If its loss was noticed later on, the house would have been searched and you and all the guests would be questioned. But if you raise the alarm yourself, no one looks at you as the culprit.”