These police officers are idiots. Complete and utter numskulls. I could do a better job of figuring this case out. Not that I'll help them. They didn't appreciate my first efforts to point them in the right direction.
“So, the shots occurred as you were both climbing into the limo?” The Chief Constable asked for the third time.
Wren and Sybelle had gathered in the library when the police arrived. For the last ten minutes, they had told the chief and his officers what happened. Captain Ward had filled in on what he saw. Yet, the questions seemed to repeat themselves.
“Le,” Sybelle's voice was agitated. She stared straight ahead and gripped a hankie in her hands. Her fingertips pulling and twisting the material. “I had just gotten inside, and Wren was following me when the first shots went off.”
“Did you see anything?”
“Na, nothing. I ducked when I first heard the shots, and then slid onto the floor when they continued. I put my head down and didn't raise it until we reached home.” Sybelle’s voice shook, and she played with her wedding ring as she answered.
Wren could see the sparkle of tears in her stepmother’s eyes. Is this all an act? More manipulation? Just as she pulled on my father? She didn’t know what to think or believe. A part of her wanted to believe her stepmother’s innocence. The other part kept repeating, it’s always the wife.
Nodding, pencil marking, the chief turned his focus to Wren once more. She braced herself for a continuation of her interrogation. Catching Ward's eye, she sighed. His head bobbed once in acknowledgment.
“You saw nothing?”
“Nid fi oedd yn gweld unrhyw beth. I didn't see anything,” Wren agreed. “I was pushed into the limo and got onto the floor as fast as possible. There wasn't time to look up. It happened so quick, and Captain Ward stood right behind me. He acted swiftly and efficiently. I am sure we owe our lives to him.”
Wren sent a small smile in Ward's direction before looking over at Mr. Gabriel, who had arrived a few minutes after them. He had waited in the library for them to come down and stayed for the police questioning.
“I believe the Queen and Princess have told you all they know. As I said, I bent behind my car when the shots fired. I shouted for them to get the limo out of there when I saw Captain Ward taking care of the princess. There was nothing to do. I believe the shots came from the opposite building. That is all I noticed.”
“They did,” Ward interjected. “They came from the Rys National Museum. I'm not sure where, but it was high up.”
“The Museum?”
“Le.”
“I have men searching now. We'll see if they come up with anything. It's not likely anyone entered the museum with a rifle or large firearm undetected and unseen.”
Ward nodded, hands behind his back, and standing upright.
“Well, I suppose that's all we can do for now until the boys find anything. I will keep you updated.” He directed this last part to Ward and Mr. Gabriel, sweeping them all in one glance. “I am sorry, Your Highness, Princess, for the life-threatening scare you had today. I can only imagine how terrible it must have been.” He sounded like a robot.
Wren glanced at Sybelle before following her example and thanking the chief.
“One last question. Can you think of anyone else besides your staff and the press who knew of your plans today?”
“Na, I can't recall telling anyone.” Sybelle shook her head.
“I haven't talked to anyone beyond Mr. Gabriel,” Wren added.
“All right then. I wouldn't plan anymore outings until we have this murderer well in hand, Queen, Princess. I think it might be best for you both to stick close to home.”
“That will be our plan, I'm sure.” Sybelle looked at Wren for affirmation.
“Cytunwyd, agreed,” Wren said.
“Before I go, I thought you would want to know we have found the identity of the first assassin.”
“Really? Who is he?” Wren blurted out. Sybelle remained silent, fingers smoothing her sleeves and head cocked to the left.
“His name is Grumley Roderick. He has a record. He isn’t known for anything more serious than theft, but there has been suspicion of his involvement with the local mob. We’re trying to track where he has been staying over the last few months. He disappeared from our radar about nine months ago. He had a regular job for most of that time on a construction site. We had hoped he was keeping his nose clean.”
“Does this mean he may just be a hired killer and not the actual murderer?” Wren wanted to know.
“It looks that way. We’ll keep you updated.” He stood and walked toward the door. “I will leave you for now and call as soon as I have anything to report.”
“Diolch,” they chorused and allowed Davies to see him out.
“I don't think I ever want to leave this house again,” Sybelle confessed, moving her hankie in her hands and sitting against the back of the chair.
“I'm beginning to think the same,” Wren sighed. “Mr. Gabriel, what are we to do?”
“I feel at a loss.” Mr. Gabriel shook his head. “I want to say you'll be safer here with the guards, but after the king's death, I'm uncertain. No offense, Ward.”
“None was taken, sir.” Ward stood in the doorway, uncertain whether he needed to be a part of the conversation or dismiss himself.
“What are your thoughts on the matter, Ward? Do you think they'll be safer with the extra security?”
“It is my every intention of making it so, sir. I have posted extra guards on watch around the clock. I even have a few keeping an eye on the servants. We are taking every precaution we can.”
“Have the police finished with the king's bedroom?”
“Le, they took another look the day of the first shooting, after the funeral, but they have told me no unusual prints or other obvious clues have arisen. Please excuse me while I attend my duties.” Captain Ward left the room after a nod from the queen.
“We are keeping everything as is until they finish this case,” Sybelle added, staring off into space. “I don't think I will ever sleep in there again.”
Mr. Gabriel and Ward exchanged a look, both nodding, and Wren looked down at her hands twisting in her lap. “Will they ever figure out what's going on?” she questioned.
“We hope so, my dear. Remember, Detective Hunter will be here tomorrow. His family will be of great help to us all, especially if the police have no other clues. We will get to the bottom of this!”
“When will we have to meet with the Prime Minister and Parliament?”
“Soon. I have already been in contact with them on your behalf,” Mr. Gabriel indicated both Wren and Sybelle. “We will meet next Wednesday morning. I have also set a time up with Davies for reading the will this Sunday after church. We will also go over certain trusts on Monday, but I want you to have the overview and understanding of it before we meet with the Prime Minister.”
Each nodded, eyes stared into space at his announcement.
“I'm going to let myself out and head to the office. I have to go over a few things, and I'm going to contact the news sources from this morning. I want to contain the press on the second shooting and give them a statement from you both. Do you have any thoughts on what you would specifically want me to say?”
“Na, Mr. Gabriel. What you decide on my behalf will be fine. I can't even think of what would be appropriate to say at this time.” Sybelle twisted her pearls between her fingers.
Wren watched and remembered her doing it another time. The day her father died. Twisting her hands in her lap and swallowing, Wren glanced over at Mr. Gabriel. She shook her head at him. He nodded in response and stood.
“I will contact you later today. Try to rest, ladies. The police will get to the bottom of this. Please don’t leave the house if you can help it, and if you do leave don’t go anywhere without letting the guards know and with an armed escort.” He exited on that note.
The door closing echoed in the silent room. Wren didn't
move or say a word. Instead, she stared at Sybelle and tried to determine if her stepmother could be a clever murderer.
Sybelle sat staring out the front window, frowning, and twisting her pearls. She in no way acknowledged Wren's presence. Sitting upright and still, except for her hands, the sound of her exhaling was loud.
Wren could hear her own puffy breaths coming in and out. Tilting her head, she tried to picture her stepmother stabbing and suffocating her father. It seemed out of character for the prissy, well-dressed, organized phobic, she now acknowledged. Imagining her stepmother murdering her father had Wren closing her eyes and trying to switch to another picture.
Na, I suppose she couldn't have done it. What if she had someone do it for her?
This possibility had its allure. She could picture Sybelle not wanting to get her hands dirty. The shooter could be trying to take her out while making Sybelle sole monarch of the kingdom. An idea like that isn't too farfetched.
How to find out if I'm right or not?
“I know you didn't do it.” The words were thrown into the air, a truce spreading out between them. Her statement had Sybelle jumping, hands were thrown out, and wide eyes turned to Wren.
After taking a deep breath, she stared into Wren's eyes, searching for the truth. “Thank you for that. I don't think you did it either.”
Wren could hear the conviction in her voice. Relaxing her shoulders against the back of the chair, she sighed. “What do we do then?”
“We do our jobs. We wait for the police to give us the next step. We stay out of gun's way.”
Flicking her eyes up, Wren found a small quirk of the lips on her stepmother's face. Her own lips turned up in response. For the first time in her life, she didn't quite hate Sybelle. “Sounds like a really good plan at this point. It seems every time we go out there's a shooter.”
“Do you think it's one of the servants or guards?”
Shaking her head, Wren paused and pondered. “I hope not. Some of them have been with my family since before my birth. They're all given extensive questionnaires and background checks. It's too horrible to even contemplate.”
Sybelle shrugged. “We have to cover every possibility at this moment. I'm sure the police will do the same. If it isn't one of us then it has to be someone with access to our home, knowledge of where everyone sleeps, an easy escape plan, and knowledge of our schedule. That's a lot of inside information for just anyone to have.”
“Add to the list: someone who wants to frame me. Finding out who would want to do so may prove to be our greatest lead.”
“Let's suggest it to the chief tomorrow. I'll call him in the morning. We need our peace of mind back.”
“I can agree.”
“What made you decide to trust me, Wren?”
“Well, I just can't picture you trying to kill my father. Or me. Granted, you could have someone do it for you, but I just can't picture you being the type. No matter how much I want to.”
“Well, diloch. I think.” Pursed lips and descending brows accompany Sybelle's response.
Wren watched her for a moment and shrugged. “Well, I have to be honest. However, I'd like to think we're on the same team here. It's nicer than being all by myself if this turns out to be some psycho we don't know. Do you think it could be an enemy of father's? Someone who has a man working on the inside?”
“Nid wyf yn gwybod, I don't know. I'll suggest it to the chief as well. For now, I think I need to lay down and nap before supper. Will you rest as well?”
“I don't know if I can.”
“Yr wyf yn deall, I understand. I'll see you at supper time then.”
Sybelle paused at the door and turned back to face Wren, who had been watching her.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being willing to consider that I had nothing to do with your father's death. You may not believe it, but I loved him more than words. I love you too, you know.”
Swallowing, “Diolch.”
“I think one day you'll realize I'm your ally, Wren. I always will be.”
She smiled and exited the library as Wren contemplated her words.
Can mortal enemies ever be friends? She wondered before giving a nod. Maybe we can when we have a common enemy.
14
They say the third time's a charm, but this is getting annoying. Can't anyone do the job given them?
This thought was interrupted by the arrival of her next recruit. The first assassin had died before he’d even done any damage. The second was in hiding. However, she wasn't taking any chances.
Waiting, four assassins slithered from the dark recesses of a back street. Probably not the best place for a chit-chat, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.
When all four had assembled around the alley, she took stalk of the names she had picked up on from her connection. They were all trusted men. Hopefully, one out of four would be able to do what she wanted them to do without getting shot or caught before the job was complete.
“The guards are suspicious. Since King Cynfor’s death, they are more alert. I have set up an almost foolproof plan for this attempt. None of you should get shot this time. If you get caught, you are not to mention my name. Stay silent, and I will get you out. I don't need to tell you about my connections if you talk.”
Each head bobbed up and down in the semi-darkness. Light from the sidewalk spilled over into their hole. Black outfits blended into the shadows, different colored faces shined in glimpses of moonlight.
“So, when will we get paid?” Eyes red, bloodshot, he wiped a hand across his nose and continued tapping out an unknown beat against his leg.
“When the job is finished to my satisfaction. We will meet back here. Rest assured, I will be happy to give you your due.”
“Will we get paid in cash?” Rubbing an eye and then his nose, he coughed and shook his hands out.
Watching his choppy movements, she began to rethink his ability to do what she needed him to do. “Yes. Cash. I don't want anyone, or anything, traced back to me. Got it?”
They all nodded.
“I would suggest you aren't high on dope when you carry out my task.” Glaring, she eyes him until his flitting gaze reached hers again, head nodded, and he looked away.
“AH-CHOO! AH-CHOO! AH-CHOO!” The second became a little sneezy.
“Are you going to be able to get that under control? I don't need you alerting everyone you're coming.”
He nodded, sniffed.
“Seriously, if any of you mess this up the police will be the least of your problems. Understand?”
A bare nod from the third assassin who stood in the corner. He hadn’t spoken, moved, or made a noise since they arrived. His quiet, almost bashful demeanor gave her hope in at least one of these recruits. The dope fiend and sneeze-a-thon both nodded as well.
“I've got it, boss. I know how to kill the perfect way. Shoot through the heart or head. No worries. You do it right, and it enters without fuss. I got this.” The fourth straightened from the wall and began to give them an anatomy lesson. Holding a gun up in both hands.
“Hey! Watch where your pointin' that!” The addict shouted and jumped.
Hands flew up in front of the sneeze-a-thon even as he sniffles, and the quiet one slips further into the shadows.
“Now, you hold it like this, take aim, make sure you aim a little –”
“Enough!” Her voice interrupted his monolog. “We don't need a lesson. This isn't a medical class, dude. I just need one of you to do what I asked and get away without being shot or captured. Got it?”
Arms lowered, the wanna-be-doctor jerked his head up once and slumped back. The others offered a nod.
“Good. You have your instructions then. May the best man win.”
“Will the payment be in small bills?”
Deep breath in, out.
Glaring in the addict's direction, she wished for the knife she'd used to kill the king. “I'm sorry. Are you comp
letely ignorant? A dope, perhaps? I will give you what was promised by my friend. This meeting is only to verify your involvement. Do. Not. Cross. Me.”
Their heads bobbed up and down. They reminded her of a set of bobbleheads. Easily manipulated and with nothing really inside their brains. She hoped that wouldn't prove to be her own downfall.
“All right then. Meet me here on the appointed day and hour after you do your jobs. Hopefully, you won't screw this up.”
Dispersing into the night, she hoped taking on four assassins at once would prove to be an asset. “It just takes one. Just one,” she mumbled.
“If they don’t measure up, I’m sure I can help,” a voice said from the shadows.
Opening her eyes, her lips curved into a smile. “Spying, are you?”
“Just taking a look at the new recruits. Are you hoping for a mass strike this time?”
She shrugged as he strutted closer. Tucking her hands into her pockets, she waited until he stopped a foot in front of her.
“I’m hoping for fear. They’re all right where I want them.”
“Do you know what you’ll do once it ends?”
“Celebrate,” she said, smiling.
Reaching out, he ran his hand over her arm and pulled her closer. “Together?”
“Absolutely,” she told him.
He leaned close and kissed her.
Backing up, hand to his chest, she shook her head. “Later, I’ve got to get back.”
“Be careful,” he whispered.
Nodding, she turned and walked away. She whistled, “It’s off to work I go,” for a second before she disappeared.
15
The room was empty. Her stepmother was just as much of a neat-freak as she suspected. Sybelle’s spare room didn’t have anything out of place. Her drawers were organized. By color and article of clothing, as per her last investigation.
Mrs. Griffith hadn’t even been in to clean. Wren had waited until after her stepmother had taken a nap to plan her search. Mrs. Griffith had followed her downstairs like a faithful dog, and Wren took the opportunity to sneak inside. Knowing Sybelle was going to talk to the cook about next week’s meals, she figured on having at least an hour.
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