by Jolie Day
“Listen, let’s do it this way: I will do you a favor and work together with Russell for a while. In a way you do have a point after all, as it is still our father’s company and I should take over my responsibilities as a shareholder.”
“That would be fantastic,” Suzanne whispered with tears in her eyes.
“But I will also use my job there to investigate dad’s death a little further.” She noticed that Suzanne bit her lower lip, so she quickly added, “I honestly do not believe for one second that the rumors are true that Connor shot our dad because he was involved in dealings with the mob. There must be some old documents around still that were from that time, and I want to have a look at them. We can look at them together.”
“So, now you want to play detective?” Suzanne’s voice reached heights that were almost painful for the ears.
“Why not? Maybe we will be able to discover something that the police and the prosecutor back then did not see.”
“And what is the catch with this plan? You were talking about a compromise earlier.” This was typically Suzanne, as Mira knew her – being goal-oriented, she was able to pick out only the important points. She tried to put on a mischievous smile.
“For now, we leave Connor Carmichael out of it.”
“But he is…” her sister immediately tried to object, but Mira cut her off.
“…the murderer?” Mira finished the sentence for her. She shook her head and started to warm up to her idea, which originally had only been a ruse to distract her sister. “I am very well aware that you and I cannot investigate this case objectively. We are involved.”
“That is putting it mildly,” Suzanne snorted, and Mira thought that she might have actually seen a glimpse of real interest in her face.
“But that could very well work in our favor”, she continued. “We have our memories. We have access to witnesses, who maybe didn’t tell the police the full and complete truth back then.”
“Do you remember Ms. Phillips?” Suzanne remembered suddenly.
“Wasn’t she dad’s secretary?” Mira raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t able to put a face to the name, but she did remember that name being mentioned a lot when their parents had been fighting.
“Yes, and she still works for us. We can question her. I am curious as to what Russell will say to our plans,” she added. As she said the last sentence, her optimism about their plan seemed to vanish from her face.
“Why should we put him under additional stress?” Mira tried to keep a factual tone of voice as she asked. “He doesn’t really need to know everything. This is something that belongs only to us. Only to you and me. And once we figure out who the killer is, we can go and present him with our findings.” She had thought about saying it in a slightly less respectful way but had decided against it. She already knew that her brother-in-law would not be too pleased once he heard about their endeavor.
“You are right,” her sister agreed. “Russell can be overly macho and I am sure that he would be worried about us getting into dangerous situations. We can involve him, only if we need a man’s help.” Obviously, that was not very likely, but if this agreement pacified Suzanne for now, then Mira would be okay with it. The most important thing at this point was for her sister to lose her obsession with Connor.
Or was there something seriously wrong with herself that she wasn’t able to face?
Whenever she thought about that fatal evening when her father was shot, or every time she saw her mother’s lifeless face, something deep inside of her cramped together into a painful, tight knot. But did she experience the same racing thoughts and torture that Suzanne had obviously felt all these years? No. Mira wasn’t even entirely sure if the numbness that consumed her could be considered as torture. When she had been a child, they had made sure that they had kept everything as far away from her as possible, before actually sending her away. All done with the best of intentions, she was sure about that, but because of that she had never really had the chance to work through the aftermath of her father’s violent murder. First, she had been too young and later on, Mira didn’t have a reason to follow the case or the condition of her mother. Every time she had visited during the holidays, Suzanne had kept everything unpleasant away from her. Of course, they had visited their mother a few times, but since she wasn’t responsive and was mostly bedbound, just lying there staring at the ceiling, the visits had been relatively short. Trying to talk to a mother who had completely disappeared into her own world, hadn’t made sense – not to a ten-year-old, nor to a teenager.
Only when she had discovered her mother’s boxes in the basement, which had held their mom’s entire life before their father’s death, had Mira been able to envision the sad and motionless face of her mother as that of a beautiful and happy woman.
“What are you thinking about?” Suzanne’s voice brought Mira back to reality.
“Nothing I could possibly put into words right now.” She got up. “So, you are okay with it? We will investigate this ourselves and deal with Connor as if he were just another one of the suspects.”
A smile rushed across Suzanne’s face. “Alright then.” Mira had actually expected to have to use a lot more of her convincing arguments to persuade her sister, so she now looked at her suspiciously. “I will stay away from him. But you know that a suspect will also have to be questioned, right?”
“Yes, when the situation demands it.” That much she had to admit to her sister.
And she would do everything in her power to not come that close to him ever again. Obviously, it was dangerous to be near him, as last night had clearly proven. However, what worried Mira even more, was the fact that their last two encounters had somewhat gotten under her skin. His deeply unnerving calmness and at the same time his coldness, unsettled her more than any long-forgotten memory. Connor Carmichael was dangerous for her body, but even more for her peace of mind.
Chapter 10
The rest of the day went by pretty fast.
Mira did go and see Suzanne’s doctor, who looked at her wound and then prescribed her some more painkillers. A very efficient nurse replaced the bandage with a large bandaid. That was the first time that Mira actually dared to have a quick look at her injury. Connor had been right. Despite the incredible pain, she had literally only gotten a scratch, even though it was a big one. She swallowed half a tablet and wondered how bad it must hurt when you are really shot and have a bullet stuck deep inside of your flesh. The doctor recommended that she come back and see him again in four days, and that had been it.
After that they went and visited their mom, as they had been doing every day since Mira’s return to L.A. At first, she had found it simply odd to sit at her dying mother’s bedside and talk over her to her sister, but by the third day they had developed a small routine. Suzanne asked Mira about her experiences in London, about her plans for her future, or even about trivial things, such as what she had eaten for lunch, and Mira answered. Once Mira had overcome the bizarre feeling of sitting in an interview with her sister, who already knew most of the answers anyway, she finally understood: She told her mother about her life. It didn’t matter that she painted a slightly rosier picture. The most important thing was that her mom heard their voices and knew that her children were there with her.
Connor had not returned to Nightingale Manor.
The memory of him sitting in that very chair, reading to their mom from “Wuthering Heights” was more painful than any wound. She remembered that the novel was still lying in her hotel room. She could not bring herself to leave it here, with her mom, even though it had been her mother’s favorite book. Connor was so full of contradictions! Or did these contradictions only exist in her head, meaning that he was, in fact, perfectly normal? The thought that he of all people had read to their mother from her book, was so strange that she decided there and then to return his book, and his present, and the impersonal “get well” wishes to him.
As long as she was still able to do that.
Before that, she had to face the big announcement of the great news that from now on she would be working together with Russell. Her sister had been playing the innocent one, pretending that Russell would be over the moon when he found out that he would be working together with both of them now – leading their father’s company. However, when they finally arrived at the building where Dumont Ltd now occupied a complete floor, Suzanne was unusually quiet.
“Good day to you, Mrs. Forbes. How nice of you to show your lovely face again.” The concierge was almost overly polite when he greeted them. Suzanne introduced Mira and immediately added that he would be seeing her sister more often from now on. “She has just gotten her degree in economic science and will be working for our company,” Suzanne explained to the extremely impressed Charles. For Mira it sounded more like her sister needed to convince herself.
When they stepped out of the lift, Mira saw for the first time just how much had changed in her father’s company. Her memory of Dumont Ltd had been that of an upcoming firm, that was settled amongst middle-class companies. At least, that is how she interpreted her memories of her father’s offices. A solid brown carpet, ten or eleven separate rooms, that had been purposefully furnished with desks and copy machines, and a modest little reception area for visitors. She wasn’t entirely sure how many people her dad had employed back in the day because the firm had also owned a couple of warehouses at a remote location. Her dad hadn’t taken her there very often. Back then, he had usually told her that he would be too busy and then he had left her with a not so thrilled Ms. Philips if he had to go somewhere.
Today, her first steps inside these offices were on shiny wooden flooring. She saw doors without name plates (whoever came here obviously knew where they were going) and she couldn’t find a reception. Maybe Charles, the concierge, announced everyone visiting Dumont Ltd. The walls had been painted in a light-colored beige tone and they had been decorated with a delicate border instead of a chair rail. Some modern style oil paintings were hung along the wall in a crisp and perfectly straight line. Just like in a museum, matt metal plates underneath them informed viewers of the name of the artist, when it was painted, and what it showed. As Mira followed her sister along a hallway to her left, she read the paintings’ titles. “Hotdog” by Cleo Jenkins showed a blue line in between weak yellow lines that were strangely arranged, and which may or may not have been meant to resemble coleslaw. A tiny matchstick man in front of a blue background was called “Child on Los Angeles River” and it proved that Russell Forbes supported local artists.
All of this was absurd. This was no longer her father’s company. Literally everything had Russell’s handwriting all over it, from the light fixtures all the way to the color on the walls.
Mira knew that she couldn’t even be mad at him for it. After all, she hadn’t done anything to take responsibility, once she was all grown up, and had allowed him to take Dumont Ltd and do with it what he wanted. As long as those checks were coming – she didn’t care. Not once had she asked to see the books or enquired about the financial status of the company. If anything, she had completely trusted her sister to keep an eye on her husband and to make sure that the company was run as their father would have run it. Russell had taken over this responsibility when they had needed him to. After their father’s death, he had married Suzanne and he had worked hard to free Dumont Ltd, once and for all, from any suspicion regarding money laundry for the Mafia, and to restore the firm’s good reputation to what it had once been.
The second to last door in the hallway opened. A woman came out and turned her head towards them. She looked vaguely familiar to Mira, but only when she stood right in front of her did she realize who the woman was. This was none other than Sarah Philips, her dad’s former secretary.
“I am sorry to inform you, Mrs. Forbes, but your husband is currently in a meeting. He won’t have time for you until later today. May I relay him a message?” She ignored Mira, who had come to a standstill behind her sister. Mira did not appreciate the cool and condescending tone Philips used, when she spoke with her sister, and it angered her more than she might have expected. She walked around her sister and pushed herself in front of Ms. Philips until she was forced to notice her. “Hello Sarah,” Mira greeted her in an exceptionally friendly manner. She held her hand out to the woman, but then didn’t even wait for her stunned opponent to take it. Instead she just grabbed the woman’s slack, hanging hand. “It has been such a long time since we last saw each other. How nice, that you are still working for us.” Mira didn’t like to be arrogant, but when the situation demanded it, she was more than capable of playing an intemperate person. “I am really looking forward to working closely with you in the future.”
One had to commend Sarah Philips. Not once did she lose control over her facial expression. “Mira? Is that really you?” She smiled from her considerable height down to a much smaller Mira, who suddenly felt catapulted right back into the past. “Oh, forgive me, I didn’t recognize you. It’s almost as if…” Sarah Philips’ round and slightly protruding eyes teared up. She had either completely missed her calling to Hollywood or she really was that moved to see Mira again after so many years. “…it seems like it was just yesterday that you sat in my office with scratched knees and a smudged mouth, asking me so many questions. You were such a curious child.”
“I still am. Curious, I mean.” Part of her initial anger evaporated, as she recognized the woman from back in the day, who hadn’t aged that well. She was still very attractive, given her age, but she looked very tired and somehow had a subdued beauty about her. Instead of those 80s costumes with the enormous shoulder pads that had been fashionable back then, and which Mira remembered all too well, she now wore a slightly understated light brown suit. Flat, practical shoes and way too much make-up, which hadn’t been able to hide the exhaustion, completed the picture of a stressed and therefore not always friendly woman.
“We don’t mind waiting for my brother-in-law,, Mira then said and hooked her arm into Suzanne’s. Her sister had listened to the conversation without saying a word. “I am sure, there is a reception room here somewhere.”
“No, but you are welcome to wait in my office until Mr. Forbes is done. Would you like a coffee or tea? Some Danish or sandwiches?”
“Oh, don’t worry, we just had lunch,” Suzanne finally spoke. “Is Mr. Bishop here today? We can go and wait in his office instead.”
It was strange for Mira to observe her sister in such a way. On the one hand, she acted like a petitioner in her own company, who needs attention from almost everyone around her. On the other hand, it had become all too obvious that she didn’t really know much of what was going on here, including when her husband had meetings, which only proved to Mira that Suzanne had not paid enough attention to Dumont Ltd either.
“Let’s just wait in Ms. Philips’ office,” Mira then suggested and stared at her sister with a slightly meaningful and, hopefully, inconspicuous look. “We can talk about the good old times. Well, as long as you are not too busy with work right now.” At this moment, the door at the end of the hallway opened. A gray-haired man appeared and ended their conversation. He might have been in his early sixties and walked ever so slightly hunched over. His face was vaguely familiar to Mira, but she had no idea where she had seen him before. He pulled his hat deep over his face and walked by them without saying a word. Ms. Philips had taken this opportunity to quietly slide back into her office. Mira followed the man with her eyes and caught a glimpse of Ms. Philips’ suddenly pale face. Before she could voice her concern, Luke and Russell joined the two women who were waiting. Russell seemed in the best of moods, as he grabbed his wife and planted a kiss on her forehead, before asking, “Hey, what is going on here that my two favorite women have come to see me? How about my best man and I take you ladies out for lunch?”
“Great idea,” Luke agreed immediately, but Mira shook her head. “We already ate but thank you very much. We came her for something
else.” Dammit. Suddenly she knew how Suzanne felt and now it was she who felt like a petitioner. Mira pulled her shoulders back.
“How is your shoulder?” Luke asked.
“Just a scratch. I’m as good as new,” Mira replied. “Thanks to the big pharma industry and their wonderful pain medication.” She smiled to make her answer seem friendlier. “But let’s not talk about my injury. Russell…” she turned to her brother-in-law, “…do you have a moment for us?”
He had no choice other than to nod politely, especially since the door to Ms. Philips’ office was still open and Luke was also overly curiously listening in to the conversation. Should they maybe ask him to join them, since he was the official Deputy General Manager and Russell’s “best man”? She had the feeling that Luke’s presence would maybe have a calming effect on Russell’s choleric temper. As always, Suzanne had tuned into her thoughts, before Mira was able to say them out loud.
“Luke, why don’t you join us,” she said. “What Mira and I have to say does also concern you, although indirectly. Let’s go to the meeting room,” she suggested, but her husband refused.
“No, that is not possible,” he replied with such a furious frown that distorted his whole face and made it look like that of a wild bull. “Right now, the new computers for the IT and the HR departments are stored in there. Let’s go into my office.”
In his office, Russell very much projected the essence of a man who was completely in charge and who held all the strings in his hand. He immediately sat down in his luxurious chair and left it up to Luke to find additional seating for Mira. Russell folded his hands into the typical triangular shape that politicians liked to use, leaned back, and then started to swing back and forth slightly with his chair. He will almost certainly say: What can I do for you, thought Mira and felt her old resentment against him creep back up.
