He growls as if already regretting what he just revealed. “Promise you won’t tell anybody?” he bends over the counter, resting his forearms along the marble surface and leaning closer to me as if the walls would hear. He’s so close by I can almost feel his breath puffing in my face, and he smells like cinnamon, just like I would imagine him to taste. And I’m already stumbled upon his lips with distraction. I mean from this close, it’s hard to focus on anything else other than his lips. And they are red and bulky, perfectly symmetrical. And I catch myself thinking this naughty thought when he proceeds.
“You know how Kegan has a sister, right?” he waits for me to nod, but I keep gawking at his lips. “Well, his family is very well-adjusted. But recently his parents have come to a decision and they’ll hand the rights of their enterprise over to their children.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” I say, recalling my parents doing the same to me with the cupcake shop.
“The thing is that Reese is putting up a fight. And recently Kegan has stumbled upon some paperwork that changed his whole life.”
“Oh? What is that?” Somehow this is getting just more intriguing.
“When their parents first met, for whatever reason, they’ve done something that has been kept with a lid on this entire time. Keagan is adopted.”
My hands go over to my mouth, trying to imagine what Kegan is going through.
“Maybe they couldn’t conceive at the time, maybe that did it out of benevolence, but they’ve kept it a secret all along. And it’s been so shocking for Kegan, but he didn’t share it with anybody. Instead, he packed up, and came for vacation in town, where he stayed at our uncle’s house just for a day. But that was enough for out uncle to come across the adoption paperwork that Keagan had taken with him. When Kegan found out, he was enraged. He kept threatening him over and over, and was almost losing it. He was just scared that he might tell Reese. My uncle always had a soft spot for Reese out of all his nephews and nieces.”
Mr. Gleason loved all his kin, and everyone thought that this was because he didn’t have a child of his own. But I always thought that this was just him being himself.
“Why is that?” I ask, suddenly captivated by the story. “I mean, why would Kegan be afraid of Reese finding out?”
“Reese is very competitive, and according to Kegan, she’d use her cognate relation to the family to take over the business. Obviously their parents have settled their deep-rooted name on the business world, and seemingly a blood-related child would take priority at promoting their brand any further.”
“That’s just silly.” I note.
“That’s what I told him. But his anger has fogged his clear thinking. Do you remember the morning before the party where you caught me and my uncle fighting?”
“How could I forget?”
“Well, part of that discussion was related to Kegan. I mean, yeah, we were talking about that contract too. But that wasn’t all that it was about.”
“Oh,” I shrug, finally putting the pieces together and reliving it again in my mind.
And then it hits me. Could Kegan be the piece of the jigsaw that everybody is looking for? Could he have actually killed his uncle? I mean, his reasons weren’t strong enough for him to have wanted Mr. Gleason killed, but he might’ve done it out of confusion and rage.
“Is he still in town?” Suddenly, I make myself ready for another mystery-related encounter.
“He is. He’s confided me in his secret and I tried to put some reason in him, but the man still needs time to recover. I mean, it must’ve been hard for him to come across that shocking fact.”
“After all these years, he must be. Though when you put things together, and if he talks it out with his parents, I’m sure their reasons have been noble and Kegan would come around.”
“I think, it’s the enterprise management that’s getting on the way. It’s just blurring his mind away. I think trying to keep a top-notch business going is hard enough for you to need extra concerns in the way.”
“I guess,” I shrug, but my mind is already rendering toward one thing. Is Kegan the murderer that we should’ve been looking for? We’ve been going in the wrong direction this entire time.
I’m just so undecided as to whether I should tell Heather my true feelings toward her boyfriend. It’s not just in the way that he treated me (or rather, mistreated), I didn’t see a connection going on between them, at least by his end. Like his mind was not in the relationship, but elsewhere.
How could Heather just disregard this? And more importantly, why? Despite her silly comportments sometimes, she really is a very smart person. So why is she disregarding the way he treats her? Something seems off here.
And if I decide to tell her, I don’t know how I’m going to be able to apple-polish my talk around it, because obviously I need to be careful.
I’m taking care of customer’s orders when Heather comes through the door, holding her white tablet in one hand, while swinging the other one in uncontainable excitement.
“Guess whose story went all viral and caught the interest of a top-notch gossip magazine?”
“Um, whose?”
She scowls a little offended that I have to ask. “Mine! I did it. Practically everyone is talking about my little investigation. I guess using Rylee’s names was an excellent clickbait strategy.”
“Well, congratulations?” I shrug, recalling everything that happened with Kamron, and not sure whether this much attention in on her interest.
“Oh, come on, I take a huge step toward turning into an overnight sensation, and that’s all you have to say?” she swings her hands open in the air, in expectancy. “Can I have a cup of coffee, at least?” she mumbles.
“That, you can have.” I say and start preparing her caramel cappuccino.
When I get back to her, with a paper cup in hand, I realize that Mrs. Hopper has already barged in for her usual cupcakes, and meanwhile she’s just catching up with Heather.
“Oh, Heather, dear. It’s like I find you in the shop every time I stop by. It’s either we’re running into a bizarre, accurate coincidence, or you’re just strolling too much lately.”
“Hey, be careful with how you treat me,” Heather demands. “I’m a celebrity.”
“That’s what I call wishful thinking,” Mrs. Hopper mumbles to herself, and I see Heather suppressing the need to knock the old lady down.
I ask her what sort of cupcakes she prefers today, and she tells me to surprise her, so I just grab the closest thing to me and put it in a box for her. When I put her order on the counter, I see Heather joyfully, in a gestural way telling Mrs. Hopper all about her new-found success, and Mrs. Hopper looks at her appreciatively.
“I take back what I’ve said about Kegan last time I was here,” Mrs. Hopper turns to me, leaving Heather mumbling halfway through the story, and it was so unexpected, Heather starts stuttering in her words when Mrs. Hopper snubbed her.
“How come?” I gawk, surprised. The mention of his name has drawn my interest obviously.
“He was snooping in his car, bending over the passenger seat and gawking at something interestedly. I looked around, but nothing suspicious caught my eye. And when I went over and talked to him, he jumped up as a terrified cat.”
“Oh, Kegan has always been weird,” Heather points out. “I remember that one time when he asked me out. I’m so glad I didn’t accept. The man gives me the creeps.”
“You don’t even know him,” I demand. It’s not that I do anymore that her. But he’s not been around town long enough for us to get to know each other.
“You don’t need to know a person for them to terrify you.”
“I think he’s hiding something,” Mrs. Hopper concludes and in my mind I know what that is, but I don’t want to share it with them just yet. “And it’s not good. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” She shivers as if the man has gotten under her skin.
I make a mental note to ad
d an extra meeting in my itinerary, but first I’m going to have to ask Braiden in which hotel Kegan is checking in. As regards to those few encounters when I’ve stumbled upon Kegan, he didn’t strike me as a scary person. He’s been nice and refined with me. Though you never know. And besides, my investigation sketch has come down to either Kamron or Kegan being in relation to this mystery. Other than that, I can’t think of anyone else who might have had motive strong enough so as to carry on with murder.
“Wow, that looks exquisite,” I point at the necklace Mrs. Hopper is wearing today.
“Oh, thanks darling,” her hand involuntarily goes to her neck, while she strokes what looks like a very expensive piece of jewel.
Meanwhile, Heather is just encumbered on her phone to what I think looks like thorough examination of her success’s evidence.
I pore at the necklace for a few other seconds, since it seems to strike something in me, but I don’t know what exactly, while Mrs. Hopper looks at me uncomfortably, and then I shake off the confusion.
When Heather and I remain alone, as Mrs. Hopper takes off, I’m once again perplexed at the situation that happened at the brew during our luncheon. She seems to have forgotten about it, but I cannot just shake off Rylan’s behavior out of my mind. And I’ve been struggling whether or not to tell her my true opinion regarding her boyfriend. For some reason he didn’t strike me as boyfriend of the year. Nowhere near. And to see Heather being so taken with him, something just seems off to me.
But then again, this is just a feeling of mine.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there’s nothing to worry about. I just evaluated him as a misleading boyfriend. But after all, what do I know? It’s not me who’s getting to spend long, endearing moments with him. So I decide against telling Heather about my suspicion. After all, she seems just happy with him.
In the meantime, I notice Kierra approaching, and as I get on with disposing of her order, I eavesdrop at the conversation she’s sparked with Heather.
“Did you know that Kamron and Kegan are putting up a fight over Mr. Gleason’s wealth?” asks Kierra, and for some reason, she looks suspiciously excited about it.
“How do you know it was about his wealth?” Heather raises an eyebrow inquiringly, and gears up for her tablet.
Oh, boy. I think she’s taken this ride-to-fame idea very seriously.
“What else would it be about?” Kierra says confidently. “Kegan started scuffling and Kamron’s nose started bleeding. He looked furious. And shouted, ‘You cannot have it! You cannot have it!’ That’s all I could hear. But I saw that Kamron was lying on the floor clutching his nose with one hand, after Kegan knocked him down.”
“Those cousins are hiding something,” Heather mumbles to herself, squinting, probably trying to create some sort of interesting, imaginary mystery on her mind.
“The funny thing is, you can’t just fight for someone’s personal wealth. I’m sure Mr. Gleason has decided the fate of his fortune beforehand. But even if that’s not the case, they still can’t go about it the way that they want. There are strict laws that fix this part, I learned that in one of my classes. How can they be just so clueless?”
“Unless, they’re fighting about something else,” Heather’s finger goes from her chin to the air, pointing, while she squints, and her lips purl in thoughtfulness. And that’s how I know she’s deep into resolving this mystery out of hunches.
When I get back to them with Kierra’s strawberry cupcakes, I hand over her order and she thanks me with an appreciative smile. Meanwhile, as she’s making her way to the door, I turn to Heather and look at her eyes glinting mystically.
“Heather,” it occurs to me that I’ve been meaning to ask her something regarding what Braiden told me last time he was in the cupcake shop, but for some reason it’s slipped my mind, that is until I heard Kierra bringing it up. “Did you invite Kegan at the party that day?”
“Um,” she frowns, as if trying to remember, and then she tapes at the screen of her tablet computer and a file containing the list of names that attended the party pops up. She scrutinizes through it and then turns up to me with a more adjusted complexion. “I have obviously. Why do you ask?”
“Well, it’s just something that Braiden told me. And Kegan’s been acting really suspiciously lately.” I look at her and then everything blurs while I’m concentrating into some thought.
“What are you thinking?”
“Well, I don't want to jump into conclusions just yet, but I have a bad feeling about him.” I say, and now I know for sure that it’s about time I paid Kegan a brief visit.
As far as I can remember, Kegan is a really sweet guy. I mean, I don’t know where Heather’s and Mrs. Hopper’s ideas about him being weird come from, but I’m willing to check out for myself.
Last night, I asked Braiden via text messages about Kegan’s whereabouts, and Braiden was willing to collaborate, but I don’t think he knows the reasons after my suspicion.
Luckily, the hotel where Kegan is checking in is conveniently close by, and from what Braiden told me, I gathered that Kegan likes to spend his morning in some local coffeehouse, and that’s where I’m heading right now.
The place looks nice, and it smells of cappuccino and chocolate. It has a cozy vibe to it. Brick dark walls are crammed with pastry carts filled with various sorts of beverages and cookies.
I pore around the ambience, and since it’s not really crowded, I’m able to find Kegan at the table nearby the door. Approaching, I try to scrutinize his face, trying to determine whether he looks like a murderer of not, while he’s enjoying his food.
When I stand next to the chair from across him, he turns his head my way, obviously startled by my unfaltering silhouette.
“Oh,” he seems a little confused, and frightened, if I’m not mistaken. “Hey, there,” his eyebrows wrinkle suspiciously.
“Hey, Kegan,” I try to not come across to him as a creepy stalker, never mind the bizarre circumstances. “Would you mind?” I point at the chair, and hold his stare.
“Oh, please, go ahead.” He says mildly, and his arms flinch comfortably on the table, while he’s gesturing for me to take the seat.
Up until now, I don’t spot a single feature of strangeness in him.
“I know that we haven’t been able to catch up lately, but, I’m sorry for what happened to your uncle,” I tell him and keep staring unshakably.
He chokes on his drink, and keeps coughing a few times after that, until his digestive system comes to place.
He turns his eyes up at me, and I gawk at him as resolutely as I can. “Please don’t mind me if I’m crossing a line here, but what is it exactly that you’re doing here in town?” I know that I probably won’t even get an answer to this one, but I had to try, despite everything.
“I mean, it’s kind of personal. And complicated,” he adds.
“Well, I’ve got time,” I say and place my hands over my lap in a way that suggests I’m prepping for a long conversation.
“I don’t appreciate sharing insidious information with other people, as in strangers.” He adds, a little bit rudely. “And I feel like you’re overstepping.”
“Oh,” I mutter, and I know that my need of solving this mystery is becoming larger than my comportments. “I know about you being adopted.” I say, trying to sound as mild as I can. I know that the man is still trying to come to terms with it and he doesn’t need an outsider pointing it out.
“Is there anyone who doesn’t know?” he scoffs, childishly, and I can discern the annoyance in his eyes.
“Who else knows?” I thought this was the kind of information that you keep with a lid on. At least, that’s what Braiden told me.
“Detective Cassidy came up to me pointing it out so smugly as though he’d won the golden ticket. Obviously he’d made some research on his own, and he’s put me and my cousins on the top of his list of suspects. I just couldn’t wait to smash that overpowering smil
e on his face.”
“He has that effect upon people,” I remember when the detective showed up smiling just the same exact smug smile at me. And I’ve felt just as aggressively that day.
“But I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you want to know.”
“What?” I wrinkle and shake my head a couple times as though this thought never crossed my mind. He knows that I’m pretending. “That’s not my motive.”
“Detective Cassidy knows it, too. I have an alibi.”
“An alibi?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to stay up to date.
“Yeah. My sister.” He shuffles his head, and gets back at his food.
I frown, uncertainly. From my recent encounters with Braiden, I’ve gathered Kegan and Reese are not on the best terms.
“She didn’t lie about that one. Shocker!” he says, annoyed. And I realize that after all, his relation with his sister might still be grudging.
“What do you mean? What else did she lie about?”
“She’s just so consumed with being the head of the company of my parents, she’s trying all sorts of things to get in my way. That’s why I wanted to keep this a secret from her. You know, me being adopted.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, in an empathic way.
“You know, it was hard at first to come to terms with the fact that my whole life was based upon a lie, but eventually I came to grips with it. But still I didn’t want her to find out, just because she would use that against me in regards to business relations.”
“But,” I scowl at some thought in my head, trying to do the math. “I don’t think Reese was invited to my party.” What if his alibi is based upon a lie?
“We were fighting that day,” he gazes at me, ignoring my question and looking like he just wants to get this out of his system, as if confiding a confession in a therapist. “She was just trying to get our uncle not to keep up with his generous giveaways. ‘You shouldn’t waste your money so unreasonably,’ she told him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a say in him getting killed.” He stops immediately, as if catching himself at fault. Obviously something unintended slipped his tongue.
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