by D E Dennis
“That’s not how it was—”
“That’s exactly how it was!” Twenty-three years of buried hurt and anger came rushing to the surface, and this time, Michael didn’t swallow it. “Grandpa Cornelius said we had to go, and you didn’t even fight him!”
“I did fight!” he roared. “You were a kid, Michael. You have no idea what was going on back then. I was the youngest of three brothers. No one expected anything of me, they let me do whatever I wanted. So when I eloped with the cook’s daughter, your grandfather grumbled but he let it be. Then my eldest brother died and not long after Gareth ran off and we never heard from him again.
“The Grimms founded Castle Rock. We built Fairy Tails. We have a reputation in this town that your grandfather would not have sullied by an heir who ‘married beneath him.’ I was the only one left to take over my father’s estate and business. Suddenly, I knew all too well why my brother ran away.”
He lurched forward and clasped his shoulders. “My father put tremendous pressure on me. It didn’t matter to him that Kimona and I already had two children. He told me to divorce her and put the three of you out with monthly support payments to tide you over. That was to be the end of my ‘indiscretion’ as he called it, and then I was to marry someone more suitable.
“He would not listen to reason and grew angrier every time I defied him. Every time I said I loved my family and would never give you up.” He gave him a little shake “So, he took it a step farther and threatened to cut me off, write me out of the will, and have me barred from Fairy Tails, if not run out of Castle Rock completely.”
“So you gave in,” Michael cried.
“No! I told him to do it!” he shot back, slashing his hand through the air. “I told him he could do his worst but I would never give in to his wishes. It was weeks of awful, nasty fights and soon even you kids realized something was wrong. It was starting to affect you both. Monica cried whenever her grandfather stepped into the room. Our children were facing being shunned and despised in their own community and home, or living on the streets. Neither future you deserved, so in the end... your mother said yes. She agreed to leave and take you and Monica with her.”
Michael stumbled back, shoving away his hand. “What?! That’s not true!”
“It is true, baby,” a soft voice spoke up.
Breaking off from the audience that had collected in the doorway, Kimona Grimm approached them. She stopped just before Michael. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. The decision to leave was mine. I couldn’t have you growing up in the grip of that man, nor was I going to be thrown out onto the street like trash. If I was to go, it was going to be my choice.
“Your father and I legally separated and then I moved us here so at least we could be near each other. I could not have you lose your father and your home entirely. This town is your legacy, your birthright, and I wanted you to grow up knowing all the things a Grimm could achieve no matter where they came from.”
Michael balled his fists, chest heaving. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
Kimona shook her head sadly. “You didn’t want to hear the truth, Michael.”
“You chose me to be the villain in this story,” Glenmore said gruffly, “and I deserved to be. I let him drive you away, and I’ll never forgive myself nor him. Twenty-three years and I’ll never forgive him for costing me my family, my children.” He stepped forward, grasping his forearm. “My son.”
Michael roughly scrubbed his face. “So what now?”
Kimona and Glenmore shared a look. “You tell us,” his father replied. “Your grandfather passed ten years ago. It’s just the four of us now and, if you want, we can finally be a family. Put aside decades-old grudges and make up for the time that was stolen from us.”
Michael’s eyes widened as he spoke, his body going stiff.
“What do you say, son?” Glenmore asked. “Can we put the past behind us?”
Michael held up a hand. “Hold that thought, Dad,” he said absentmindedly.
Their voices grew faint as Michael retreated into his head. It was going into overdrive, triggered by something his father had said.
Beauty. Spindle. Charles. Charles as Spindle. Claudia. Cake. Phone. Emma. Allergic to Strawberries. Studio light. Stalker. Dora. Donna. Mary. Beauty. Beauty. Beauty!
Michael’s head shot up. “That’s it,” he whispered. He looked at his father. “Dad, that’s it!”
“What are you— Michael! Where are you going?”
“I solved it!” he shouted over his shoulder as he raced toward the house. “The person who killed Beauty and attacked me. I solved the case!”
He skidded to a stop in front of Samira, Spencer, and Monica. “I’m going back to the police station to speak to Charles. I need him to confirm something for me. Then, I have one more stop to make. Spencer!” The man jumped when Michael turned on him. “Gather everyone up and bring them to Cadal Manor. We’re getting everything out in the open. It all ends today.”
Spencer bristled. “I don’t take orders from—”
“Do it!”
Flinching, Spencer’s stance lost its aggressiveness. “Um... right... fine.”
“I know you’re supposed to be my bodyguard, but I have to fly solo on this one,” he said to Samira.
With that, he took off for his car.
“Michael!” Kimona cried. “You can’t just run off. This is important!”
Michael was heading for the driver’s seat but he backpedaled to his mom to give a quick kiss on the cheek. “This is important and I’m going to keep my promise this time.” He looked at his father in the eyes. “We are going to talk, for real this time, just you and me. But first I have to put away a murderer and get an innocent man out of prison.”
Glenmore nodded. “I’ll be here.” Slowly, he lifted his hand and draped it over his mother’s shoulder, pulling her close. “I’ll always be here.”
Michael left his parents cuddling on the front lawn as he raced to his car
“Michael, you care to tell us what’s going on?!” Samira shouted as he peeled out of the drive.
“I will,” he called, sticking his head out of the window. “Trust me, it will be worth waiting for the big reveal.”
MICHAEL STOOD IN THE living room of Cadal Manor, watching everyone stream in.
“What’s this about?” Claudia asked as Monica led her to an armchair.
“Yeah, Grimm,” Gabriel Silva said petulantly. “What do you want now?”
Michael smiled enigmatically but did not respond.
Mary, Donna, and Dora arrived. On their heels was Malia Diragoni and then finally Emma French.
Everyone took their seats while Monica came over to Michael’s side. Nodding at Samira and Spencer, he cleared his throat as they took up positions near the entrance.
“Thank you all for coming. I’m sorry if you were ripped away from your plans, but I figured you would all like to know who killed Beauty Cadal.”
Claudia clapped her hand over her mouth as hostile and confused faces were suddenly taken over with surprise. Donna goggled at him. “Are you still claiming it wasn’t Charles, despite the evidence found against him?”
Michael shook his head. “It was not Charles Cadal. He is innocent.”
A chorus of gasps and some denials followed that. Michael held up a hand and they fell silent. “It wasn’t Charles and I’m going to prove it. Right here. Right now.” Taking a deep breath, Michael launched into his tale. “Shortly after Beauty Cadal turned eighteen, she was run off the road by a reckless driver. Her brakes failed due to leaking hydraulic fluid and she gets into an accident that could have been fatal. Miraculously, Beauty walks away without a scratch and her parents don’t think anything of it. They hire her a driver and move on. Then a year later, Beauty is practicing her lines on an empty set and a studio light falls, narrowly missing her. No one is around except for Beauty’s stalker, Gabriel.”
Gabriel jumped out of his seat. “I’m not a—”
; “Sit down, Silva!” Samira bellowed. “Do not interrupt again.”
Red as a maraschino cherry, Gabriel took his seat.
“As I was saying,” Michael continued. “Gabriel had been following Beauty around for a while at that point, taking her picture, fawning over her, and sneaking on set to see her practice. He had been good about avoiding the cameras, until Beauty is almost hurt, and he rushes out to makes sure she is okay, just in time to catch a glimpse of someone fleeing the scene.
“Beauty does not believe anything is wrong, but those around her are starting to get worried. Gabriel decides it is time to take their love out of the shadows. He would be better use to Beauty at her side, protecting her, so he takes the money he inherited and transforms himself into her ideal man. The clothes, the shoes, the looks. He decides to stand silently at her side... which is the complete opposite of what the killer wanted.
“You see, those accidents were anything but. A silent, patient, unassuming killer had been waiting in the shadows striking out whenever the time felt right but continually failing. So what could they do now but plot a third attempt, one they would make sure went exactly to plan.”
Eyes trailed him as he began to pace. “A couple months ago, Beauty and her friends went out to a club. They ordered drinks from the bartender and the one meant for Beauty is found to have strawberry juice in it. Everyone knows Beauty is severely allergic. She breaks out into hives, swells up like a balloon, and her throat closes up.”
His eyes swept the room, scanning their faces.
“This one stumped me. Did the bartender really mix up the drinks? How could someone have spiked it in a crowd full of people? How did the killer know which drink was hers? I went around and around, looking at it from every angle and then today I realized...” He lifted his head and his eyes latched on to her frantic, darting ones. “It could only have been you... Emma French.”
Claudia let out a tiny scream as Dora seized her daughter. “No! No, you’re wrong!” she cried. “My Emma would never!”
Emma shook her head frantically. “I didn’t kill Beauty! I don’t know anything about the lights or the car accident. You have to believe me! Beauty didn’t even drink from the glass.”
“Of course not,” Michael said smoothly, “because at the last second you feigned like you didn’t know which drink was yours, took a sip of Beauty’s, and warned her. You couldn’t go through with it.”
“Wait? What?” Gabriel said. “You’re not making any sense? If Emma is the killer, why would she have warned Beauty?”
“Emma is not the killer,” he replied firmly. “I said there was to be a third attempt to take Beauty’s life, but this was not it. I told you that everyone knew about Beauty’s allergy, including of course, Beauty herself. She always had an EpiPen with her and in a crowded room full of people, the moment she began to react, an ambulance would have been called. That’s why this one stumped me, because the killer has proven by now that they wanted Beauty dead, so why would they have done something so clumsy and doomed to fail like this? There was none of the cleverness of the first two attempts, so the only conclusion was that the killer was not involved at all.
“This was done by the person who collected the drinks from the bartender, had the opportunity to slip something in on the way to the table, and then just happened to pick up the wrong drink. It was you, Emma. Why don’t you tell everyone why?”
Emma’s face crumpled, and she promptly burst into tears. “I-I didn’t want to h-hurt her,” she wailed. “I just wanted her to know what it was like. She had everything. She was beautiful and rich and talented and she even had all my mother’s attention. ‘Sorry, Emma, I can’t have lunch with you today, Beauty needs me.’ ‘Sorry, Emma, Charles called and he needs me to take Beauty shopping.’ ‘Sorry, Emma.’ ‘Sorry, Emma.’ ‘Sorry, Emma!’ She had it all and she didn’t appreciate any of it! She treated us like trash and it didn’t matter that my mom loved her like a daughter, or that I was her best friend.
“So, I decided I would take away the one thing she did care about. Her looks. When she was a swollen, hive-ridden mess then she would understand what it was like to be the ugly hanger-on.”
Emma sniffled, slumping her shoulders. “But in the end, I couldn’t do it. She might not have cared about me but... I still cared about her. She used to be so different, maybe if I gave her more time, my best friend would come back.” She sobbed. “It’s too late now.”
“It was always too late,” Michael said sadly. “Because by then another plan was in the works. One the killer was determined would succeed. Nothing would be left to chance this time. They decided to strike directly at Beauty. Contacting her through the blog, seducing her with tales of making her famous, enchanting her so that when the time came on her twenty-first birthday, she would be exactly where the killer wanted her to be, waiting for Spindle at the top of those stairs.
“She receives his text, rushes out alone to meet her secret lover, and then the killer pushed her down the stairs. They slip back into the party and poor Beauty lay there slipping into a sleep from which she would never wake.”
Claudia choked back a sob, but Michael kept going. This was hard but it was time this finally came out. “The killer takes her phone, presses play on the DVD, rigs the smart TV to turn on and off at the precise time. Then they carry on like nothing happened and feign shock and horror when the guards rushed in announcing Beauty is hurt.
“The Cadals hold everyone back and demand they be searched, but the killer rests easy, Beauty’s phone is safely hidden and they have nothing to worry about. This won’t be traced to them. They go home for the night but soon return to plant the phone they used as Spindle in Charles’s desk, along with Beauty’s.
“Everything is set for the revenge they have waited so long for, and it would have gone off beautifully if the killer hadn’t made two mistakes.” Michael’s head swiveled around, and he finally faced the killer. “If you hadn’t made two mistakes, Malia.”
Malia’s eyes were narrowed into slits. Gone was the charming, smiling demeanor. In its place was an expression well-suited to the creature her name derived from, a dragon. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Grimm.”
“Oh, but you do,” he replied. “See, you hated Charles Cadal with every fiber of your being. You let him believe, you let everyone believe, that you had forgiven and forgotten the past, but in truth, you nursed and fed your hatred until the time came to take from Charles everything he had taken from you.
“You’re wasted as a party planner, Malia. Acting was clearly your true calling. You smiled and simpered and laughed your way through the last twenty-one years. I can’t imagine how hard that was, but you did what you had to do.”
He turned away from her poisonous glare and addressed the room. “Malia and Charles Diragoni married young. They ran off, happy to be free of his overbearing father, but life smacked them full in the face when Malia found out she was pregnant. They had no choice. They had to come back and live under Clark Cadal’s rule again.
“Unhappiness caused Charles to turn to drinking and this quickly becomes a problem. He was never home, wasted their money on alcohol, and although he never struck his wife or child, he picked random bar fights and punches holes into the walls of their home. Malia gets fed up. She wanted better for their daughter
“The last straw was when Charles began taking up with Claudia and sneaking around behind her back. She packs her bags and tells Charles she’s leaving him and taking Alaina. Charles was drunk like he was most nights, and he flew into a rage. Says he won’t let her take his child from him, but Malia is adamant. She leaves the room to get their bags and Charles takes his chance. He snatches up Alaina, hops in the car and tries to run.”
“Oh no,” Mary breathed.
Almost everyone was looking at him in shocked horror, even Samira and Monica. This was the first time they were hearing the full story.
“They were speeding down the street along Siren Woods when an anim
al jumped out in front of the car. He jerked the wheel, the car spins out of control, and they crash. Sweet little Alaina is killed.”
Dora shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “But that— That’s not—”
“The story you were told?” Michael finished. “Of course not. Clark Cadal made sure of that. His son was consorting with the lovely and rich Claudia Blake. He finally made a good match that was going to elevate the name Cadal to one that was respected in the community. All that would go away if his son was locked up for drunk driving and child endangerment. So he did what rich daddies do when their sons make mistakes,” Michael said, his mind flashing to the sneering face of Cornelius Grimm. “They make them go away.
“The report reads now that Charles was completely alert and sober when a deer ran out in front of them. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it and the accident was just that.
“That worked for everyone else and the officer he paid off, but not for Malia, because of course she knew the truth.” Michael turned to her, looking into her hate-filled eyes. “She was devastated. She lost her only child and the man who made her life a nightmare was going to get away with it scot-free. She bursts into Cadal Manor and makes a scene. Clark has her forcibly removed and denounces her accusations as the ramblings of a sad, jealous, crazy woman.
“Malia goes away for a year, but not to get help. She goes away to plan. Charles thinks he can take her child, divorce her, marry someone else, and then have a blissful, carefree life with another woman and another daughter? Not while she walks this earth.
“No, Charles was going to feel her pain. The pain of losing his reputation, his family, and his only child. She starts with the car first. Tampers with it so the fluid leaks and then she ran Beauty off the road in the same place she lost her own daughter. But things went wrong.”
The room was spellbound, hooked on every word that dropped from his lips.
“How?” Spencer asked, eyes round.
Michael glanced at him. “It went wrong because the Cadals didn’t do what they were supposed to do. They didn’t file a report and get the police involved. Instead, they bought her a new car and hired a driver. Had they called the police, the cops would have discovered the car was tampered with and no doubt Malia left a trail that would have led back to Charles.
