by D E Dennis
Michael sat on the edge of the mattress and flipped through the old photographs. He watched as a happy, smiling baby boy grew into a laughing toddler, and kept growing until his grins began to fade. The carefree child was replaced with a sullen boy and then a surly teenager.
Michael closed the book and tossed it back in its hiding place. He didn’t have time for the past.
The case, and the case alone, was what he needed to think about now.
THE NEXT MORNING, MICHAEL was seated at his desk hunched over client files, when his sister trudged in.
He lifted his head. “You’re late.”
Her response was a string of words she would never dare repeat in front of their mother. Michael chuckled.
“I forgot to set my alarm clock,” she grumbled. “Not that I see the reason we have to be in at eight o’clock every morning. I thought one of the perks of being your own boss was that you can set your own hours.”
“We did set our hours and we chose eight to six. That is the time on our business cards and that is when we need to be here in case a potential client walks in.”
She snorted derisively. “Potential client? That’s what I like about you, Michael, you’re a dreamer. You are still holding out hope, even though weeks have gone by without that phone ringing or that door swinging. The Charming case is going to keep us going for a little while, but that money will run out too and then where will we be?”
He lifted his head. “We’re going to be fine, Mo. You’ll see. After we solve this case, we’ll have proved ourselves. We’ll get more clients and the CRPD might even hire us out themselves.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said wistfully.
She put her things away and then came over to his side of the room and propped herself against his desk. “I got through to Gracie.”
Dropping his pen, he looked at her questioningly.
“She is the Harts’ cook.”
Michael pushed the files away entirely. “Did she confirm Lance’s alibi?”
“Nope, she couldn’t.”
Michael deflated, but for some reason, his sister was still smiling. “What?”
“She couldn’t be absolutely sure, because even though his parents ordered him to stay in his room all night, they left for a party and didn’t come back until after three in the morning. Gracie brought up his dinner at eight and he was in his room where he was supposed to be, but the rest of the night she was downstairs cleaning up the kitchen and then she went to bed. She had no idea if Lance actually stayed in his room all night. And in a house that big, she wouldn’t have heard it if he sneaked out.”
Michael copied her grin. “So he could have left any time after eight o’clock.”
“That’s right, bro.”
Michael leaned back in his chair. “We need to speak to him. Today.”
“You want to go back to the school?”
He shook his head. “Mrs. Wolf reluctantly gave me permission the first time, but she won’t like me making a regular habit of questioning the students during school hours. I say we wait until after school and catch him at home.”
“Gracie says Lance comes home at four and his parents don’t get back until six. That is our window if we want to talk to him without interference.”
“Perfect. We may even have this case solved early.”
MICHAEL AND HIS SISTER were leaning against his car, lazily licking ice cream cones when the blue convertible pulled up to the drive.
Lance stepped out of the car and waved. “Hey, Grimm. What’s up? You have more questions about Preston?”
“A few,” he said mildly, taking another swipe at the melty, chocolatey treat. He gestured at Monica. “This is my sister and partner, Monica Grimm.”
Lance slid up to her and tossed his hair out of his face with a move Michael was sure he practiced. “Pleasure.”
Monica smiled indulgently. “Mind if we go inside and chat?”
“After you.”
They strode inside and Lance led them into the living room. He threw his backpack on the couch and then sank into an armchair. “You guys can sit.”
They did so, and Lance folded his fingers behind his head, completely relaxed. “So, what’s up?”
Monica didn’t waste any time. “You and Preston have been friends for two years, correct? Were the two of you close?”
He laughed. “Yeah, we were tight. Why?”
“Did you guys ever fight?”
His smile dimmed slightly. “Yeah, sometimes... nothing big. All friends fight.”
Michael could see he was getting on the defensive.
“Yes, all friends fight,” she agreed, “and usually they make up and move on, but what about you two? Did you guys get into a fight and skip the making up part? Were you pissed at Preston?”
He dropped his hand. “No. I keep telling you, we were cool.”
She nodded, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Well then maybe you can explain this picture to me, Mr. Hart, because you’re glaring pretty hard at a guy you claim you were cool with.”
Lance snatched the phone out of her hand and looked at the picture. “This is— This is nothing,” he argued.
“Nothing? The look in your eyes says this was certainly not nothing. What was going on between you guys?”
“Nothing was going on,” he repeated. “You can’t even be sure what I was looking at.”
“You were either looking at Preston or you were looking at Abigail, so which is it? Was it Abigail? Did you hate your buddy’s girlfriend?”
Something flashed across his face. “No.”
Michael put his hand on Monica’s arm. “We’re not getting anywhere, Mo. I say we try Abigail instead. We’ll show her the picture and ask why Lance has such a problem with her.”
His eyes went wide. “No, don’t do that! Abby will think—”
“What will she think?”
“She’ll think that I don’t like her!”
“Do you like her?” Michael asked softly. “Your buddy’s girlfriend.”
Jaw clenching, his face suddenly changed. Gone was the attractive smile, twinkling eyes, and devil-may-care attitude. In its place was a face much like the one in the photo, seething with bitterness.
“He wasn’t my buddy, Grimm.” He spat his name like it was a curse word. “I couldn’t stand that guy.”
“Why?”
He ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly. “You know, me and Abby were talking before they got together. I told him I was into her and what does my buddy do? He asks her out and starts dating her like it was no big deal. Doesn’t even pretend to feel sorry about it.”
“Why would he do that?”
He laughed harshly. “That’s how Preston was. The dude was cold as ice and an expert at hiding it. He kept that charming Charming smile on his face and played the role effortlessly, fooling everyone into thinking he was this sweet guy... that is until he got a few drinks in him.”
“What happened then?”
“Then the real Preston came out,” he said. “One night, a couple weeks ago, we were hanging out at Auggie’s place. Just drinking and playing video games, then he turns and tells me he doesn’t even like Abby. That he only started dating her because his parents cut him off and he needed someone to bankroll him until they came to their senses. He said townies are always spending money they don’t have, trying to prove they can run with us, so he went after a couple with a little bit in their pockets and flashed them a smile. He didn’t care if it was Abby or Delilah, he just went with the ‘easiest one.’”
Monica looked as disgusted as Michael felt. “He said that to your face? Knowing how you felt about her?”
“Yep,” he said wryly. “Great friend, right.”
Michael sighed deeply, scrubbing his face. “So that’s why you killed him.”
“Wait, what?” Lance sputtered, eyes bugging out.
“You killed Preston, because he treated the girl you liked awfully and threw it in your face. How
did it happen, Lance? Did you text him and tell him to meet you in the woods and you would bring the party favors? All the booze he couldn’t get himself with his parents breathing down his neck. He goes to meet you and you pick up the nearest rock and—”
“No!” he shouted. He lurched forward, almost falling off the chair. “I was home that night!”
Monica jumped in. “Were you, Hart? Because no one can seem to prove that. Your parents were out of the house.”
“But I wasn’t alone,” he protested. “The servants were here.”
“And do they keep track of you, Lance. Pop their heads into your room every hour to make sure you are where you’re supposed to be?”
“No, but—”
“So you could have slipped out that night?”
“I could have, but I didn’t!” He leaped to his feet. “I didn’t see Preston that night and I did not kill him. What kind of psycho do you think I am? He was a jerk, but I didn’t want him dead.” He slashed his hand through the air. “Now, I’m done with your questions. You have anything more you want to say to me, you can direct it to my lawyer first. Get out.”
Neither Michael nor Monica argued with him.
They left, barely even all the way out the door before he slammed it at their backs.
“What do you think?” Monica asked softly.
“I think he’s hiding something.”
“Me too, but how do we find out what that something is?”
He bit his lip, thinking. “We need to talk to Samira.”
They headed for the car. They only took one vehicle that day so Michael rode passenger while his sister drove them out of Fairy Tails.
Samira didn’t answer on the first try, so Michael sent her a text.
“Nothing?”
“She’ll call back,” he replied. “She’s got access to phone records, surveillance cameras, and medical examiners. I know her boss wants us half in the dark, but anything she can tell us would be helpful at this point.”
“Especially about the person who sent that text,” Monica agreed. She glanced at him. “Are you and Mira okay?”
“Why do you ask?”
“She seemed upset on the phone last night, but she wouldn’t tell me why.”
He frowned. “Last night?”
Shrugging, she replied, “She and I are friends, Michael. We talk.”
Michael didn’t respond and the silence stretched between them until she sighed in exasperation.
“That is your go-to move, bro. You just refuse to speak or tell anyone what you’re feeling, until they just flat-out give up. I admit it’s a good one because you’ve managed to chase everyone else out of your life but it’s not going to work with me.”
“I’m not trying to chase you away, Mo. I just don’t want to talk about this. I respect it when you want to keep private things private; I wish you’d do the same thing for me.”
“Oh, please.” She scoffed. “What have I ever kept private from you? You’re my friend and my brother. I tell you everything. I trust you. Why can’t you trust me?”
Michael reached out and took his sister’s hand off the wheel. He held it tight. “Mo,” he said, never more serious than he was at that moment. “I trust you explicitly and without question. You’re my best friend, baby sister. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
She sniffed and clutched his hand just as tightly. “You’re such a jerk.”
He laughed. “I love you too.”
It took her a minute but eventually, she chuckled along with him. They settled into a companionable silence for the rest of the trip.
It was just as they were pulling into the parking space in front of their office that Michael’s ringer went off alerting him to Samira’s call.
“What do you want, Grimm?” she said bluntly, although not unkindly.
Michael took this as a good sign. “We’ve made some progress on the case. Might have a suspect or two.”
“Who?” she asked sharply.
“I’m happy to share with the CRPD as long as they’re willing to share with me. Did you get the phone records back?”
“Not yet...”
“Come over to the office anyway and we’ll catch each other up. Sound good?”
There was a lull in the conversation. Michael assumed she was considering his offer.
“Fine. We’ll be there in forty-five minutes and you better have Chinese food waiting for me when I get there. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Deal,” he replied.
Michael hung up and was about to put his phone away when it went off again. This time it was a text.
He opened it up as he followed his sister into the building. He read it and laughed. Another text from Ella, telling him about a rat that leaped from the bin scaring the wits out of her, when she went to take out the trash.
“Who on the other side of that phone has you grinning like that?” Monica asked as she unlocked the door.
“Ella.” Michael handed over the phone and let her look at the message, while he picked up the desk phone and ordered takeout. By the time he hung up, she was laughing as hard as he did.
“She is too funny,” Monica said tossing his phone back to him. “Shame the things she’s gone through. She seems really sweet.”
He nodded. “It is a shame. You know she is working two jobs right now and volunteering. She works at the Castle Rock Animal Shelter, cleans houses in Fairy Tails, and also does park clean-ups on the weekends.”
Monica whistled. “Wow. How is she managing that with school?”
“That was my question, but she says she is just doing what she has to do. She is trying to get into Castle Rock University and pay her own way, so that means a lot of hard work and late nights.”
“She’s an impressive young lady.”
“I agree.”
They fell into conversation while they puttered around the office, tidying up and getting ready for visitors. By the time the clock struck six, Michael and Samira were sitting on the couch in the breakroom with dozens of Chinese food containers in front of them. Sadly, it wasn’t just the three of them.
“So this is the infamous headquarters of Grimm Investigations,” Spencer jeered. “All you could afford, Grimm?”
“Yes, actually,” Monica said, stepping lightly into the room carrying a bottle of wine. Spencer whipped around, sneer gone. “Why? Don’t you like it?” she challenged him.
His Adam’s apple was bobbing like a ping-pong ball. Michael struggled to hide his laughter.
“I love it,” Spencer said weakly. “Great location. Lots of space. And you’ve decorated it so... nicely.”
Monica smiled widely, showing all of her teeth. “Nice of you to say, Froggy.”
Michael looked away from the sad sight and turned to Samira. “So, how has the case been going on your end?”
“In the last two days? Apparently, not as well as it’s been going for you.”
“Find out anything new?”
She shook her head. “Preliminary autopsy report came in, but it said what we already knew. Blunt force trauma. We should have the full report in four weeks.”
“I don’t have four weeks. Bryan Charming gave us until Sunday to solve the case.”
She tsked. “He’s been putting pressure on us as well. He’s calling my boss every day, which means she is yelling at us every day. You’re not the only one who wants this solved quickly, so tell me about these suspects of yours.”
Michael jerked his chin at Monica. “Show her the pictures.”
His sister pushed aside the Chinese food and settled her laptop on the coffee table. She pulled up the pictures from the party, and Samira and Spencer both leaned in at the same time to see.
Samira frowned. “Who is that guy?”
“That is Lance Hart. Preston Charming’s friend,” Monica said. “I noticed this last night when I was looking through the photos of the party that Abigail Ino gave me. We spoke to him today and...”
She told them all abou
t their conversation with Lance.
“His parents were out all night?” Samira asked having abandoned her food on the table.
“Yep. My friend works there, but she admits Lance could have left at any time after eight and she would have had no idea.”
Samira snapped her fingers at Spencer, but he was already on his feet, phone in hand. “Got it. I’m calling the chief now.”
“There’s only one way in and out of Fairy Tails,” Samira said. “The gate guards have refused to hand over the security tapes without a warrant, but now that we know about Mr. Hart—”
“You can see if he drove out of Fairy Tails, when he was supposed to be tucked away in his room,” Michael finished.
“Exactly.” She grinned. “It seems you PIs do have your uses. Thanks for the suspect.”
He chuckled. “I got another one for you, if you’re interested.”
“Who?”
“Abigail Ino. If what Lance said was right, then Preston was not only using her but also bragging about it. What if Abby found out?”
She inclined her head. “That is certainly motive, but we went and spoke to her as well. She told us her alibi for the night and we confirmed it with her friends and the movie theater employees. When Preston went out into those woods, Abigail was miles away.”
He sighed. “It’s looking really bad for Lance then.”
She hummed in agreement. “Yes. Although looking at what we’ve both learned so far, I wouldn’t be surprised if we found there are more people who had it out for Preston.”
Michael had to agree. “He doesn’t appear to be the kind of guy you wanted to be around when he drank. If he treated friends and girlfriends like that, how did he treat people he didn’t like?”
“What about Preston’s laptop? Find anything on there?” Monica asked.
“Afraid not. Just the usual stuff. No threatening emails or messages. Not from him or to him. His phone is key to finding out his relationship with the person who lured him into the woods and we should get the phone records back soon.”
