by Valia Lind
"Let's not get carried away," I say, turning back to shuffle through Arthur's clothes. "It wasn't that exciting of a story."
"Mhhm, so tell me about it then. I need to know!"
"Penny, I—" I pause as I pull out one of the hanging shirts. My eyes go to the label, and if I'm being honest, I'm more than a little shocked.
"Come on, Cassie. Just spill it already."
"Penny, come over here please." My friend doesn't hesitate, walking over to stand beside me.
"What is it?"
"Can you tell me if this is Burberry?" She glances at the label before whistling.
"Umm yes. And that's Dolce & Gabbana."
We ruffle through the rest of the dress shirts, pants, a coat, and a few jackets. Except for the first four shirts, every other item in the closet is from a fancy brand.
"Okay, how can a gardener that is having money trouble afford all of this?" I ask out loud.
"Well, maybe you found that missing piece you were looking for?"
And that's when the light blinks out.
"Cassie!"
"It's okay." I'm already pulling out my phone and turning the flashlight on. Walking over to one of the other lamps, I try to turn it on manually, but there's nothing. "I think the power might've gone out."
The storm sounds even more fierce now. When I peek outside, the rain is still coming down.
"I don't think we should be going out there right now," I say. I hear Penny agree with a resounding yes. I try not to show it, but the sudden loss of light has also spooked me. The timing was impeccable.
"The guys will wonder what happened if we take too long," Penny points out. She's not wrong. I'm sure Dean is already pacing while Finn is trying to make sure they don't look too suspicious while they worry. The two brothers might be different in some ways, but their protective streak is very similar. I'm honestly surprised they didn't just follow us out here against my orders.
"What do we do?"
"We'll wait it out. If it gets too much, we might have to brave it, but let's give it a few."
I lead Penny to the wall, and we sit with our backs against it. I'm not exactly comfortable sitting on Arthur's bed. Glancing at my phone, I see that my battery is getting close to twenty percent. I shut the flashlight off.
"I'm going to save it for when we head back," I say into the darkness and hear Penny exhale.
"I guess this is as good a time as any for you to tell me what happened with Dean."
"Penny!"
"What? I'm curious."
I chuckle, but I know I can't keep not talking about this. Maybe the shroud of darkness will help put some of my feelings into words. A girl can hope at least.
"I went up to Detective Ames's room. I needed to take a look at the medical examiner’s report."
"Cassie!"
"Hey, no judging. If you want the story, you keep your opinions to yourself."
"Fine!" I can't see her, but she definitely just pouted at me.
"Anyway, Dean figured it out and came to warn me about the detective coming back, and we hid in the closet." I pause, my mind immediately conjuring up the memory of being pressed against his body.
"And? Don't leave me in suspense."
I shake the intruding images away and focus.
"And Birdie caught us. Thankfully, Dean didn't see her. Can you imagine me trying to explain that to him?"
"You're skipping over all the good parts, Cassandra."
"You're relentless, Penelope."
"That's true." We both chuckle at that, and I take a deep breath before I put into words what I've been trying to ignore.
"I think I was the one who almost kissed him."
"What?" Penny grabs my arm, scratching me a little.
"Dude, you're so violent." I slap at her grip and feel her body shift in my direction.
"You almost kissed him? You've been running from your feelings for so long and you almost make a move now?"
"And then I actually physically ran as well—wait what do you mean running from my feelings?"
"Oh, come on Cassie. I've known you for nearly twenty years. I know when you're lying to yourself. I also know that Dean and you have a history, and it wasn't the greatest one. But he's grown into a very nice man, and he's clearly into you."
"First of all—wait, wait, into me?" I sound like a parrot.
"Cassandra." I can hear Penny trying not to laugh. Maybe I really am a complete idiot when it comes to love because none of this is making sense in my mind. "The guy has been crazy about you since you yelled at him in the driveway of the inn. But he's been giving you the time you need to come to terms with that, instead of being pushy."
I think back to all our interactions. Maybe if I put this new information alongside the information I already have, I can see it. Maybe it's not just me who's having these feelings. And if it's not just me, is that better or worse for me? What do I do with this information? I may possibly be having another existential crisis while sitting in the dark bungalow of a deceased man. What is my life even?
"Speaking of men in our lives, what's the deal with you and Finn?"
Good job, Cassie. Way to divert attention.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Ha! I'm not the only one in denial here, am I?"
"This is not about me."
"Well, it could be. We could definitely be talking about you."
"You're not getting out of this that easily, Cassandra," Penny says, nudging me with her shoulder. Maybe I'm being a little sappy because of everything that's been going on, but I can't help but think that even though I'm in the middle of yet another murder investigation, I'm actually right where I'm supposed to be. My friends have truly stood by me while I figure myself out, Penny more than anyone else. I can't help but feel grateful for being so incredibly blessed. Even though she often threatens to withhold raspberry cheesecake from me.
"Wait!" I exclaim, sitting up. "That's it, Penny."
"What?"
"How does a man, who has no good income, afford such expensive clothes?"
"Am I supposed to answer that?"
"There are only two ways," I continue, excitement fueling my words. "He either steals it or he blackmails someone. Think about it. His business wasn't doing great. He was looking at other avenues of income. That's what Walter and Dean both told me, in different ways. He had to either be stealing the money from someone, which would get him killed if the person found out. Or he had some information that allowed him to blackmail, and that got him killed because the person didn't want to live under his control anymore."
"It's possible."
"It's more than possible. It's probable. There are only three reasons people commit murder. For love, money, or to cover up a crime. With Arthur's expensive lifestyle, I can see it being the latter two in a mixed kind of way."
It really does make sense. Unfortunately, it doesn’t get us any closer to figuring out who that person might be, but I have a motive now. I'm eager to talk to Detective Ames and see if my motive matches his.
"Are you ready to brave the storm?" I ask. We really do need to get back to the main house. Penny stands, and I can almost hear her steeling herself against what needs to be done.
"Lead the way, fearless leader," she says, and I grin.
16
We only get a little soaked on the way back. The rain lets up once we step outside, and I'm thankful Mother Nature seems to be on our side. It doesn't take us long to make it back to the pool house. Once we're back in the kitchens, we realize the lights are out here as well.
“This must be really fun for everyone,” Penny says, and I agree. This vacation hasn't been the kindest to anyone. The kids are probably scared because I'm sure the majority of them are still awake. It's just how these things work, isn't it?
“We need to clean up a little. We look like we've been outside,” I comment.
“How do we do that?”
"Come on."
I lead Penny
to one of the bathrooms and we slip inside quickly. After washing our faces and braiding our hair, we look a little more put together. Our clothes are damp, but hopefully, since it's pitch dark, no one will notice.
"Thank goodness!" Finn is hugging me the moment we reach them and then he pulls back. "Why are you wet?"
"Shh, keep your voice down," I say, pushing him down onto the cot. There are enough candles in the foyer for me to make out people's faces, and I can see concern on Finn's. Dean stands up from the bed beside us, and the next thing I know, his arms are around me, pulling a blanket over my shoulders.
"Thank you," I mumble as he takes his seat near me. Penny is wrapped in a blanket as well, taking the place Dean vacated on the other side of Finn.
"Cassie." Dean leans toward me, keeping his voice down. "Did you go outside?"
"Yes." I see no point in lying to him. Finn opens his mouth, but I stop him. "We're fine. I wanted to see Arthur's bungalow."
"And?"
"And the man had very expensive taste for someone with money trouble."
Dean pulls back at that, mulling over my words. Then he nods.
"You're right. He has been dressing differently. I don't remember him ever owning slacks before now."
"That's what I figured. Burberry, Dolce & Gabbana. I'm sure if we looked further, we would've found Armani in there as well. It didn't seem like something that would be part of his regular wardrobe, but that's mostly what he had."
"So, what do you think?"
"I think he got in over his head about money, and that's what got him killed. I want to talk to Detective Ames and see what he says about that, but I'm not sure how to approach the subject and still get an answer. He said I could help with the investigation, but he hasn't exactly been forthcoming with information."
"Did you expect him to be?"
"No, but I wanted him to be."
There's a moment of silence while the others think about this new piece of information. I scan the room, but I can't see into the shadows, so I have no idea where the detective is.
"He came by to check on you a little bit ago." Finn brings my attention back to him. "I just said you were in the bathroom."
"I doubt he believed that."
"I doubt he did."
Taking a deep breath, I stand once more.
"I think it's time I had a talk with him. Dean, would you like to come with me?" I'm not sure what possesses me to ask, but I'm immediately glad that I do.
"Yes, I would." Dean doesn't hesitate. I give the others a quick smile before Dean and I make our way between the cots and candles, looking for the detective. When we finally find him, he's near the front doors, talking to Priscilla. He notices me right away, and says a few more words to the head maid before walking over to us.
"Miss Duke, I hope you aren't getting into any more trouble."
"What a way to greet a friend," I say, and Dean chuckles beside me.
"How can I help you, Miss Duke?" I think the detective is trying not to smile either, and I take that as a victory.
"I know you won't share specifics about the case, but I was wondering if you have come up with a motive."
"There are a few theories."
"Isn't that what cops say when they have no idea?" Dean asks. I kind of want to high five him for that. The detective looks over at him and then back at me before motioning us farther away from the people.
"We're still going through a list of suspects," Detective Ames admits. "And I will be honest, Arthur had a few enemies around here."
"Did that have something to do with money?"
"In a way." Detective Ames cocks his head to the side, eyeing me curiously. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking Arthur was having money issues, but was living a lifestyle of the rich and famous. Something wasn't adding up."
"What do you mean rich and famous?"
"His clothes, his accessories, they were all much too expensive for a man of his means," Dean says, and now the detective is looking at him.
"How would you know that?"
"I recognize a Dolce & Gabbana suit. I may not wear it now, but once upon a time I did."
Well, this is a piece of information I didn't know about Dean. It would make sense, considering he worked in the big city. I used to wear a lot more heels as well.
"You're very perceptive," Detective Ames says, but now his gaze is on me. "We found some discrepancies in his finances. He was definitely getting money from somewhere and was making small, unsuspicious deposits very often."
"Is it possible he was stealing? Or maybe blackmailing someone for cash?"
"Those are both solid theories, Miss Duke." If I didn't know any better, Detective Ames sounds a little impressed. But I'm not about to comment on that, lest he stops being impressed. "We did recover a laptop, but it was locked. I sent it to our lab, but with the storm, I have no idea if they've been able to get into it already."
"So, what next?" I dare to ask.
"Next, we get some rest. This storm isn't letting up and tensions are high in here. If the killer is among us, he or she will be spooked. That makes them more dangerous."
"Do you think they are, among us?" Dean asks. I watch the detective for any kind of tell of what he's truly thinking. He glances over the group of people laid out on the cots before turning back to us.
"I do. I think the killer is someone within these resort walls. So, I ask you to please be careful."
Of course, I can barely sleep. Is anyone really surprised by that? The power doesn't come back on, and the candles make an already eerie situation more...well, eerie. Every time someone moves, my senses are on alert. I keep watching the shadows dance on the ceiling, my mind filled with a hundred different scenarios.
Detective Ames clearly knows something I don't. That's to be expected. I feel like I only have bits of information from all sides with no definite leads. I've checked over the notes I made on my phone about all the pieces I've been able to gather, but it isn't as much as I would like it to be.
The only definite information I have is that Arthur wasn't as innocent as he appeared to be when he first visited me in my dreams. I tried falling asleep earlier, just to see if maybe he'd show up, but no dice. After that spell, I doubt I'll be seeing him again. Then again, who knows. I sure don't. Not when it comes to my magic.
It would be helpful if I could use said magic to help with the storm, but I can't do that either. All in all, I seem to be quite useless at this. Sighing, I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling.
"So dramatic."
I jump a little, twisting my head to the right and then to the left. My friends seem to be sleeping no problem, and I wonder what time it is. My phone is getting low on battery, so I'm trying not to reach for it every chance I get.
"Birdie?" I risk the whisper, trying to see her tiny shape somewhere in the shadows of the room.
"Under here," she says. I lean over the side of my cot, hanging down to look under it. There she is. "You look great from this angle."
I roll my eyes, even though I'm glad to see her. I won't admit it out loud, but I was a little concerned about the cat. It is a bit scary out there.
"Where have you been?" I whisper as softly as I can. I don't need Finn or Dean waking up and thinking I've officially lost my mind, talking to a cat. Also, I have no idea how I would explain Birdie to them.
"Doing your work for you, of course."
"What?"
"Detective work, witch. I've been around, eavesdropping, and learning all kinds of fun information." Birdie raises one of her paws and begins to clean it thoroughly. I swear she does this just to annoy me. I'm still hanging over the side of the cot like an idiot, so I sit up carefully, before pulling the blanket back. There's no way I can have a conversation with a cat where someone might see me. As I bend down to put my shoes back on, I whisper, "Bathroom?"
"Our favorite place."
The cat leaves before I do, already halfway across the hall by the time I weave t
hrough the sleeping bodies. No one pays me any attention, and I'm glad. It's easier than trying to explain myself. From what I can see, the detective is nowhere to be found. He's probably up in his room. I wouldn't blame him. He needs rest to stay sharp. Picking up one of the candles, I walk slowly, making sure the flame doesn't go out.
I reach the bathroom and find Birdie sitting near the door. Pulling it open, I step inside with the cat and shut the door behind us.
"You know, you can make light. You don't need that fire hazard," Birdie says, jumping on top of the counter.
"We both know I'm not good with magic," I point out. "What if I set the whole building on fire?"
"Fair point."
Birdie stretches out her back before turning to face the mirror. She seems to admire herself for a moment, completely forgetting I'm even here.
"Birdie, we don't have all night. Mind sharing what you found?"
"You witches and your sense of urgency." The cat huffs before getting up and turning her whole body to face me. "There has been a lot of chatter around these parts. The main woman—"
"Lizette."
"Yes, her. She seems to have thrown herself entirely into work. The other woman—"
"Priscilla."
"Yes!" Birdie hisses, frustrated with my interruption, and I try not to smile. "She came in to where the main woman was, telling her to stop controlling everything. She was folding towels. Lizette was," Birdie hurries to add when I open my mouth. The cat really doesn't like using people's names. I've noticed that. She calls me witch almost every time.
"They're not getting along," Birdie continues. "Priscilla." Oh there's real bitterness in Birdie's voice now. "She thinks Lizette needs to loosen the reins a little. And Lizette thinks Priscilla should mind her own business."
"So, they are clashing. They presented such a united front at the game night."
"It's their job, isn't it, witch? They have to keep up appearances, since all the money problems have brought them nothing but grief."
Walter mentioned that too. This place looks like it's doing great, but in reality, there is a lot underneath the pretty exterior. I remember when I used to stage apartments. We always had to make sure the foundation was solid. It seems the resort doesn't have a solid foundation anymore.
