by D E Dennis
MICHAEL’S MIND WAS still a tangle when he knocked on Adalynn Ino’s door the next morning, but he tried to push his worries down and focus on what he was here to do.
The door inched open a crack. “Yes? What do you want?”
Monica peeked through the doorjamb. “Hello, Mrs. Ino. We were hoping we could talk to you for a second.”
“Why?” One beady eye glared at them. “So you can accuse me of being a drug addict and a bad mother again?”
“Of course not,” Monica said soothingly. “We’re not here to cause any distress. We want what we have always wanted: to find Preston Charming’s killer.”
“I can’t help with that. Go away!”
Michael stuck his hand out and caught the door, before she could slam it. “Please,” he said softly. “I apologize for what I said and for upsetting your daughter. We just want to talk. Give us a few minutes of your time then we’ll leave.”
They heard a sniff, followed by a muffled curse word. “Fine. Five minutes.”
The door flew open and Adalynn stood before them in all her glory. Michael blinked once, twice, then three times but the image did not change.
No dreamy eyes. No messy hair. No crusted drool in the corner of her mouth. Adalynn was immaculate. Her hair was pulled back tight and secured into a severe all-brunette bun, all trace of gray gone. Her makeup was tastefully done except around the eyes. She went heavy on the black making her glare seem even more disapproving, but it matched nicely with the black wraparound dress and black high heels she had chosen over her usual tatty purple robe and fuzzy slippers.
“Come in then,” she snapped. She spun on her heels and stomped off.
The siblings followed at a slower pace.
Monica whispered to him out of the corner of her mouth. “Is that...?”
“I think it is.”
“But how can we be sure?”
“Sounds like her. Moves like her, but I’ve never seen Adalynn like this.”
They stepped into the living room and took up the seats in front of Adalynn. She sat perched on the couch, lazily stroking a furiously purring Luscious.
“Your timer starts now.”
Michael looked at Monica. She gave him an imperceptible nod. “Abigail, Delilah, and Ella have all been through a terrible time and we don’t want to be insensitive by constantly questioning them,” Monica said.
Adalynn tossed her head. “Terrible time is putting it lightly. My poor Lilah has been suffering in silence for weeks. Ella has nightmares about endless forests, and Abby still doesn’t know what her sister went through. We didn’t want to further upset her after everything that has happened.”
“I’m sure it hasn’t been easy. She learns her boyfriend has been murdered and then on top of that she finds out he wasn’t the guy she thought he was.”
Lightly pinching the bridge of her nose, she replied, “She’s devastated. Just devastated.”
“She must feel like she was duped. Taken advantage of. Even though she’s such a smart girl.”
“She is smart. All my girls are.” Adalynn fell right into Monica’s trap. She got her gushing about her kids, and all of a sudden, she wasn’t worried about time limits. “Abby and Delilah beat out hundreds of applicants to get those scholarships to Castle Rock Prep and I have no doubt Ella would have too if she had been with us at the time.”
“How long has it been just the three of you?”
“Ella has lived with us for about a year now, but before that it was just me and the girls. Their father passed away when they were nine, leaving us this house and a bit to get by.”
“So Abigail and Delilah have money they received from their father?”
“He left me the money,” she corrected. “They were only children, but they both have access to the account to get themselves whatever they need. My girls are very responsible. Very independent.”
“I can see that,” Monica said, causing Adalynn to beam with pride. “But at first glance, I think a lot of people assume the twins have identical personalities, but now that I’ve been around them, I can see they’re different in many ways.”
“Oh yes, certainly. Abby was always the precocious one. Always running around and getting herself into trouble while Delilah is more quiet, shy. They’re both very protective of each other though. They have been best friends, true best friends, ever since they were small.”
“What are their hobbies? Are they interested in science? Medicine? Horticulture?”
Adalynn chuckled, flapping her hand. “Horticulture? What teenager is interested in horticulture?”
Michael piped up. “We noticed how wonderful your front garden looked. Did you hire someone?”
Adalynn jumped like she had forgotten he was in the room. “Oh that. No, that was Ella. Sweet little thing has been tidying up the place since she got here. She wanted to take the garden on as a project and one of the neighbors offered to teach her.” Adalynn tapped her chin. “I believe the twins got into it for a while. They picked out some of the seeds and flowers they wanted and Ella and our neighbor planted them.”
Leaning slightly forward, Michael asked, “Who picked the azaleas?”
“The what?”
He sighed. “The bushes with the pink flowers.”
“Oh those. I have no idea. They just went for what looked pretty.”
Michael glanced at his sister and gave her a slight headshake. He had no more questions to ask.
“Well, we won’t take up anymore of your time, Mrs. Ino,” Monica said as they got to their feet.
“Oh, that’s it?” Was it Michael’s imagination or did she sound disappointed?
“Yes, for now,” said Michael. “But if we need to speak to you again, we’ll call.”
“Alright,” she said loftily. “You can show yourselves out.”
“Now what?” Monica asked when they found themselves back on the porch.
Michael threw an arm around her shoulder. “Now we go back to the office, make a pot of coffee, and break out the whiteboard and markers once more.”
MICHAEL DIDN’T UNDERSTAND it. He had the coffee, he had the whiteboard, he even had the sister, but still nothing.
“Arg!” He flung the marker across the room, hitting the television with a loud ding.
“You gotta stop throwing things, man,” Monica said without looking up from her coffee.
“Monica, we’ve still got nothing,” he raged. “The deadline is bearing down on us and we’ve got nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that. We discovered Preston was poisoned, what he was poisoned with and how, and we did it all in less than twenty-four hours. I’d say it was a good day for the Grimm siblings.”
“Well, the Grimm siblings won’t be able to bask in their glory for long when their client fires them and trashes their name all over Castle Rock.”
“Hey, I’m the one with the doom-and-gloom prophecies,” she said, raising her head. “You’re the one who is irritatingly optimistic. This has been working for us for twenty-six years. Don’t go changing the roles now.”
Michael cracked a smile, which he assumed was what his sister was after. “Sorry, I’m cool now. I’m just feeling the pressure. I thought a flash of insight would have struck by now. That we would have caught on to some mistake or slipup, but this killer is smart. Even the method they chose was ingenious. They chose a murder weapon that was common and easily accessible, so it couldn’t be traced directly to them.”
“Not to mention all the alibis we have now are useless,” Monica said with a sigh. “They all told us where they were around the time he went into the woods, but that was just when he succumbed to the poison, not when he took it, and asking where they were when he did take it won’t help us because he was alone. We have no idea when Preston got the bottle or when the killer slipped the poison in it."
"It could have been sitting there for days, maybe weeks," Michael said tiredly. "We have no way of... knowing..."
Michael bolted up. "Wait, what
did you just say?"
Monica sighed. "I said we don't know when he got the bottle."
He flapped his hands. "No, not that. You said they all told us where they were when he went into the woods," he said fervently. "Monica, I... think that's it. That's it!" He leaped to his feet. "I was so stupid. It was staring me in the face the whole time."
"Care to fill me in?"
Michael didn’t answer right away. The flash of insight had struck, and he was silent as the pieces came together in his head. Slowly a picture formed.
Michael stood up and went over to the whiteboard. He stared at the list of suspects and recalled everything they had said, truths and lies. He thought of all he had pieced together in the last few days and as he pondered the picture became clearer and clearer until it showcased just one person.
Preston’s killer.
Michael twisted around to face Monica. "I know who the killer is, Mo. Now, I just have to prove it."
MICHAEL WOKE BEFORE the sun the next morning and shed his pajamas for running clothes, slipped out of his apartment, and set off on his long run. He needed the time to clear his head.
He knew who the killer was. He was certain of it. Now he just needed to find out when and how they poisoned the whiskey. Easier said than done.
He trusted his gut, but he would be laughed out of the courtroom if he tried to present that as evidence. No, he needed actual proof. He needed to prove the killer knew about mad honey disease and that they handled the bottle. The only question was how.
Michael veered around the fountain in the town square and headed for the edge of town. Castle Rock truly was a beautiful place. No outsider would ever guess at the sinister secrets that lay beneath the picturesque facade.
Chapter Eleven
Michael called Samira the moment he stepped into his office.
She answered on the second ring.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Did you get any fingerprints off the bottle?" he said by way of greeting.
"You know your manners are the first to go when you have a mystery to solve."
He grinned. "Sorry. I'm fine. How are you?"
"Very well, thank you," she said loftily. "Considering that we ran into another issue."
"Were there no prints?"
"Oh, there were prints alright. About half a dozen. It will take a while for us to sort them all out and then round up all the suspects and ask them to give us their fingerprints, but that is all I can tell you. The chief is bearing down on me, so I have to go."
She hung up.
Don’t even get a goodbye and she says I am the one who loses my manners.
But Michael wasn’t mad. On the contrary, he was grinning his head off. That one short phone call had left him certain of one thing: he was winning this bet.
Michael rushed over to his desk and booted up his laptop. He worked in silence for an hour, recalling statements, checking photographs, and made a quick call to Penelope Charming. As he filled in the rest of the blanks, his smile grew with every passing second.
When Michael had what he needed, he looked at the clock. Almost eight. He had plenty of time.
Michael almost ran his sister down in his haste to get out of the building.
“Whoa,” she cried. “Is the office on fire or something?”
“Sorry, I’m in a hurry.” He stepped around her and rushed down the hall.
“Where are you going?” she shouted after him.
“To get proof!”
MICHAEL SHOOK THE CLERK’S hand. “That is all I need to know. Thanks for your help.”
Michael stepped out of the liquor store and sucked in a deep lungful of air. He dialed his sister as he slowly released.
“Hello, Mo.”
“Hey, partner.” She didn’t sound too pleased. “Care to let me know what’s going on? I’ve been sitting here twiddling my thumbs for an hour.”
“Well, you can stop that now. It’s over, Mo. I know it all and I have the proof. Gather everyone together and I’ll—”
“Um, no,” she said irately. “This is not some movie where the sleuth gathers everyone in a room, reveals the killer, and the curtain drops on a happy ending. You need to come back here. Tell me everything you know, and then we’ll call Samira and move on from there.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound nearly as fun.”
“Just get back here, you loon.”
Click.
Michael heaved a sigh, but he tampered down his expectations all the same. Monica was right. He needed to speak to his partner before he did anything else. Then he would catch his killer.
Michael climbed in his car and drove back to the office. Monica pounced the moment he stepped through the door and dragged him over to her desk.
“Speak,” she demanded as she sat back in her seat, arms folded.
He wasted no more time and launched into the whole tale.
“—and that is how they did it,” he finished.
Monica looked up at him, eyes wide. “Michael...that... makes perfect sense. Oh my goodness, they really are the killer.”
He nodded, looking grave. “Yes. They are. Want me to call Samira?”
“What? No.” She hopped out of her desk chair. “Forget that. We have to gather everyone together.”
Shaking his head in amusement, Michael pulled out his phone and called Penelope Charming. “Mrs. Charming, it’s Michael Grimm. I’m calling because we’ve found your son’s killer...”
GATHERING EVERYONE together was a lot more complicated than it appeared. First, they had to wait until everyone was off work or school. Then they had to arrange for them to come to one spot, and finally, he had to call Samira and Spencer and ask them to be present to arrest the killer.
Spencer refused to move until Michael told him everything and then after Michael did he wanted to arrest the killer right there on the spot, but Michael argued him down. This case had been a complicated web of betrayal, violence, cruelty, and desperation. This shouldn’t be buried under red tape and closed-door interrogation rooms. It all needed to come out if anything was going to change. Samira agreed with him in the end, so here they were in the home of the Inos getting ready to destroy one life forever.
Bryan entered the living room with his permanent sneer. “Why have you brought me here, Grimm? This is ridiculous.”
“I will explain everything,” he replied calmly. “Please sit. Can I get you anything, Mrs. Charming?”
Penelope looked up from the crook of her husband’s arm. “No, I’m fine.”
They sat down on the couch next to a sullen Lance and a frowning Peyton Dunn.
Bryan’s eyes popped out. “What is she doing here?!”
Michael had about enough. “Bryan, be quiet! She’s here for the same reason you are. To find out who killed Preston and if you’d stop trying to throw your weight around, we could get on with it!”
“You dare—”
“Shut up, Bryan!” This shout came from Penelope. “He’s trying to help us and our son. Let him do his job.” Penelope shook his arm from her shoulder and looked toward Michael. “Go on, Mr. Grimm.”
Michael glanced at Bryan whose jaw was working, but no sounds were coming out. “Thank you, Penelope.”
Monica entered the room at that moment with Adalynn, Abigail, Delilah, Ella, Samira, and Spencer on her heels. “Take a seat, please, and we’ll begin.”
Adalynn, her daughters, and Ella arranged themselves on the couch, while the detectives sat in the two remaining armchairs. Monica joined him in the front of the room and gave him a nod.
Michael took a deep breath and began. “This case wasn’t an easy one to figure. There were so many suspects, so many motives, and endless opportunities for someone to commit the crime. We started down one path that turned out to be the wrong one and had to start over from scratch, but despite the twists and turns we’re here now. The killer is one of you and you’re going to be revealed today.
“Preston Charming was a lot of things. Handsom
e, clever, and when needed he could be as charming as his name, but his princely manner was a façade. Something you all know very well.” His eyes passed over everyone one by one. “Adalynn, Preston has hurt your daughters in more ways than one. Abigail, you were mistreated and used for your money. Delilah, you were taken advantage of and, Ella, you were blackmailed.
“Lance, your supposed best friend took pleasure in dating the girl you liked and rubbing your nose in it. Peyton, there was certainly no love lost between you and Preston, and finally, Preston’s parents, Bryan and Penelope, whose son got a dose of rebellion along with his eighteenth birthday cake and was suddenly acting out in dangerous and shameful ways.
“Preston was smart enough not to let the rest of the world see him for what he was, but his killer was smart too.”
Michael stopped and his sister stepped forward. “The killer was smart, yes, and lucky. They devised a clever way to get Preston to kill himself while they were miles away. You see. Preston Charming wasn’t killed by the person he met in the woods. He was dead long before that because Preston was poisoned.”
There was a collective intake of breath.
“Poisoned?” Ella breathed. “So that means he...” She drifted off, staring off into space with shocked horror.
“Yes,” Monica continued. “That night he was suffering from something called mad honey disease. It makes you a nauseous, drooling mess, acting out so wildly that people think you’re crazy or drunk, hence the name mad honey. After six hours goes by, the victim eventually succumbs to the poison, which is what Preston did, alone in the woods in the middle of the night. Groaning for help with no one around to give it.”
Penelope choked on a sob.
Michael took over from there. “And who would want Preston Charming to die so horribly? A victim of his own smirking cleverness.” He scanned the room again and settled on one person. “It was you, Abigail Ino.”
At this point, many things happened at once. Penelope and Delilah let out screams. Bryan and Adalynn leaped to their feet shouting abuse, although not at the same person, and Samira and Spencer were left to control the crowd.
