Twisted Palace

by Erin Watt

He responds with a grim nod. “Results haven’t come back yet.” He pauses. “I assume they’ll conduct DNA testing on the, ah, fetus, as well.”

  The thought makes me sick, because for the first time since this all started, it suddenly occurs to me that two people died in that penthouse. Brooke…and an innocent baby.

  Swallowing a rush of bile, I force my gaze away from the sleek black box. Instead, I stare at the huge framed photograph that sits on an easel beside it.

  Brooke might have been an awful person, but even I can’t deny that she was beautiful. The picture they picked shows a smiling Brooke in a pretty patterned sundress. Her blonde hair is loose and her blue eyes are sparkling as she beams at the camera. She looks gorgeous.

  “Shit. This is depressing,” Easton mumbles.

  It totally is.

  I was so poor growing up that I couldn’t afford a funeral for my mom. The memorial service was twice the cost of the cremation, so I decided not to have a service. No one would’ve attended it anyway. Mom would’ve liked it, though.

  “Coming?” Easton prompts, nodding his head toward the front.

  I follow his gaze to the casket. It’s open, but I refuse to go up. So I shake my head and find a seat near the middle while Easton ambles up the center aisle, hands tucked into his pockets. His suit coat strains across his broad shoulders as he leans forward. I wonder what he sees.

  Glancing around the room, I’m a bit surprised by the turnout. Or rather, the lack of turnout. There are fewer than ten people in attendance. I guess Brooke really didn’t have any friends.

  “Get out!”

  I jerk at the sound of Dinah’s high-pitched wail. Well, Brooke had one friend, at least.

  It takes a second to register that Dinah is speaking to us. She’s glaring daggers at me and Easton, who’s just coming back from the casket.

  “This is shameful!” she screams, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so unhinged before. Her face is one red splotch, her green eyes wild with outrage. “You Royals don’t belong here! And you—”

  She’s talking to me now.

  “—you’re not even family! Get out! All of you!”

  I don’t know what not-guilty looks like, but I’m putting Dinah at the top of my suspects list. A woman who’d blackmail some poor guy into her bed is a woman who’d do other terrible things.

  Callum stalks over, a hard look in his eyes. Steve, who’s in a similar black suit, tails him. Steve’s gaze flicks at my black sack of a dress that I found on the first sale rack at the mall department store. It’s two sizes too big, but the only other black dress I have is a body-con one from my mother. That was absolutely too morbid—and much too sexy—to wear to a funeral.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Callum says tightly. “In fact, we have more right to be here than you, Dinah. I was engaged to marry her, for Pete’s sake.”

  “You didn’t even love her,” Dinah growls. She’s trembling so violently that her entire body is swaying. “She was nothing but a sex toy for you!”

  My gaze darts around the room to see if anyone heard that.

  They all did. Every single pair of eyes is glued to this confrontation, including the minister’s. He’s frowning at us from the podium, and I’m not the only one who notices.

  “Dinah.” Steve’s voice is low and more commanding than I’ve ever heard it. Usually he speaks in an easygoing manner, but not right now. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

  “I don’t care!” she roars. “They don’t belong here! She was my friend! She was like a sister to me!”

  “She was Callum’s fiancée,” Steve snaps. “Whatever feelings he may or may not have had for her, we know what her feelings were. She loved Callum. She’d want him here.”

  That shuts Dinah up. For about half a second. Then she aims her furious gaze at me. “Well, she doesn’t belong here, then!”

  Steve’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits. “Like hell she doesn’t. Ella’s my daughter.”

  “She’s been your daughter for all of five minutes! I’m your goddamn wife!”

  The minister clears his throat. Loudly. I guess he doesn’t appreciate her taking the Lord’s name in vain in the middle of a chapel.

  “You’re acting like a child,” Steve says harshly. “And you’re embarrassing yourself. So I suggest you sit down before you’re the one who gets thrown out of here.”

  That shuts her up for good. With a thunderous glower in our direction, she stomps to the front of the room and slams her ass down on a pew.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Steve apologizes, but he’s only looking at me. “She’s a little…emotional.”

  Easton snorts softly, as if to say “A little?”

  Callum gives a curt nod. “Let’s just sit down. The service is about to begin.”

  I breathe in relief when Steve walks away to join his horrible wife. I’m glad he’s not sitting with us. Every time someone reminds me that I’m his daughter, my discomfort skyrockets.

  To my surprise, Callum abandons us, too, settling onto a front-row pew on the opposite aisle of the O’Hallorans.

  “He’s giving a speech,” Easton tells me.

  My eyebrows soar. “Seriously?”

  “He was her fiancé,” is the shrugged response.

  Right. I keep forgetting it’s not public knowledge that Callum hated Brooke by the end of their destructive relationship.

  “It’d look suspicious if he—ah, fuck.” Easton stops abruptly, his gaze swinging to the right.

  Tension coils in my neck when I see what made him curse. The police detective who came to Astor Park earlier this week—Cousins?—has entered the chapel. A short, dark-haired woman is at his side. They both have shiny gold badges clipped to their belts.

  As uneasy as their presence makes me, I can’t help but feel a burst of triumph. I wish Reed were here so I could say, See! The cops are here because they also think the killer might show up!

  “They better not try to interview us,” I mumble to Easton as I scrutinize the guests.

  One of them could be the killer. My gaze pauses on the back of Callum’s head. He had motive, but there’s no way he would let his son take the heat for a crime he committed. Plus, Callum was in D.C. with us.

  My gaze moves to Steve. But what would be the motive? If it was Dinah in the casket, he’d be my prime suspect, but he’s been gone for nine months, which means there’s no way he could’ve been the father of Brooke’s baby. I dismiss him.

  The other handful of people, I don’t know. It must be one of them. But who?

  “Dad’s lawyers are still stalling about that,” Easton mumbles back. “If it happens, it’ll be next week. They talked to Wade, though.”

  I suck in a breath. “They did?” I wonder why Val didn’t say anything, but then I think, when would she have had the opportunity?

  I’ve barely spent any time with my best friend since this whole mess began. I know she misses me, and I miss her, too, but it’s hard to hang out and gossip and have a good time when life is so screwed up right now.

  “They asked him all these questions about Reed’s fighting,” Easton confesses. “And about all the chicks Reed’s been with.”

  “What the hell? Why is that important?” I’m oddly resentful about that. I don’t like the idea of these cops dissecting Reed’s previous relationships. Or his current one with me.

  “I don’t know. Just telling you what Wade said. That was pretty much it. They didn’t even talk to him about Brooke or—” He halts again. “Okay, seriously? This is just weird.”

  When I turn again, this time it’s to find Gideon walking in our direction.

  Easton mutters to me out of the side of his mouth. “Why is Gid here? Who drives three hours to attend a funeral of some bitch he couldn’t even stand?”

  “I asked him to come,” I admit.

  He gapes at me. “Why?”

  “Because I need to talk to him.” I don’t offer any other details, and Easton doesn�
�t have time to cross-examine me, because Gideon reaches us.

  “Hey,” the eldest Royal brother murmurs. His eyes aren’t on us, though. He’s staring at Brooke’s casket.

  Is he imagining Dinah there? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was. Steve’s wife has been blackmailing Gideon for six months, maybe longer.

  I move down to make some space, and he sits beside Easton. Gideon’s a Royal anomaly. He’s little thinner than his younger brothers, and his hair isn’t as dark. He has those blue, blue eyes, though.

  “How are classes?” I ask awkwardly.

  “Fine.”

  I haven’t spent much time with Gideon at all because he goes to college a few hours away. I only know a handful of things about him. He’s a swimmer. He dated Savannah Montgomery. He’s sleeping with or has slept with Dinah. He sends dirty pictures to his girlfriend.

  If Gideon would kill anyone, it’d be Dinah.

  But…Dinah and Brooke look similar. They both have blonde hair styled in that magazine cover blow-out fashion. They’re both skinny as sticks with huge racks. From the back, they could easily be mistaken for sisters.

  “Thanks for coming,” I tell him. Covertly, I study his face, which is hard and tense. Is that what guilt looks like?

  “Still not sure why you summoned me,” is the terse reply.

  I hesitate. “Can you stick around after the service? It feels weird discussing stuff while…” I nod toward the enormous picture of Brooke.

  He nods back. “Yeah. We can talk after.”

  Easton sighs, also staring at the photo. “I hate funerals.”

  “I’ve never been to one before,” I confess.

  “What about your mom?” he asks with a frown.

  “Didn’t have the money for it. I was able to pay for a cremation and then I took her ashes and threw them in the ocean.”

  Gideon turns to me with surprised eyes at the same time that Easton says, “No way.”

  “Yes way,” I say, unsure of why they’re both staring at me.

  “We spread our mom’s ashes in the Atlantic,” Gideon says quietly.

  “Dad was going to bury her, but the twins were freaked out about worms eating their way into the coffin. They watched some Discovery Channel special on it or some shit. So he caved and agreed to the cremation.” A genuine smile spreads across Easton’s face, not the cocky fake grin he constantly wears, but a soft, honest one. “We took the urn out and waited for the sun to rise because mornings were her favorite. At first, there was no wind and the water was like glass.”

  Gideon picks up the story. “But the minute the ashes hit the water, a huge gust came out of nowhere and the tide rolled out so far I swear I could’ve walked a mile without the sea hitting my knees.”

  Easton nods. “It was like the ocean wanted her.”

  We sit silently for a moment, thinking about our own losses. The grief over my mom’s death doesn’t feel so sharp today, not while I’m sandwiched between the broad shoulders of the two Royal brothers.

  “That’s a beautiful memory,” I whisper. My suspicion that Gideon is the killer wanes. He loved his mother so much. Could he really murder a woman?

  Easton grins impishly. “I like that our moms are watching over us from one coast to another.”

  I can’t help but smile back. “Me, too.”

  My gaze strays to the front row where Steve and Dinah sit, and my smile fades when I notice that Steve has his arm stretched across the back of Dinah’s chair. She’s leaning against him, her shoulders shaking slightly. Her grief reminds me of why we’re all here. This isn’t some mixer in a church basement.

  It’s a funeral for a woman who was only ten years older than me. Brooke was young, and no matter her flaws, she didn’t deserve to die, especially not a violent death.

  Maybe Dinah isn’t the killer at all. She’s the only one here who’s showing any true grief.

  The minister walks up to the podium and asks for us to all take our seats.

  “Friends and loved ones, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of Brooke Anna Davidson. Let us stand together, join hands, and pray,” the gray-haired man intones.

  Music starts playing as we all rise. The boys brush their hands down the front of their ties. I shake out my dress and clasp their hands, wishing Reed were here. After a short moment of silence, the minister’s low voice recites a scripture about how there’s a time and season for everything. Apparently this was Brooke’s time to die, at the age of twenty-seven. He doesn’t mention Brooke’s unborn child at all, which makes me wonder if maybe the police are keeping that detail from the public.

  At the end of the prayer, he instructs us to sit, and then Callum strides to the podium.

  “Awkward,” Easton mutters under his breath.

  If Callum thought so, you’d never guess it. He calmly speaks of Brooke’s charitable work, her devotion to her friends, and her love of the ocean, ending with a declaration that she will be missed. It’s short, but surprisingly heartfelt. When he’s done speaking, he nods politely in Dinah’s direction and retakes his seat. Dinah has the decency not to freak out on him again. She simply nods back.

  At the podium once more, the minister asks if anyone else has any memory they would like to share. Everyone seems to pivot toward Dinah, whose only response is to sob loudly.

  The minister closes with another prayer and then invites everyone to remain for refreshments served in the next room. All in all, the service takes less than ten minutes, and something about the speed of it and the lack of people here for Brooke chokes me up.

  “You crying?” Easton asks with a note of worry.

  “This is just awful.”

  “What? The funeral in general or that Dad got up to speak?”

  “The funeral. There’s hardly anyone here.”

  He surveys the room. “Guess she wasn’t a very nice person.”

  Did Brooke have any family? I strain to remember if she ever told me. I don’t think I ever asked. Her mom died when she was young, I know that much.

  “Maybe, but I don’t think I’d have more people at mine,” I admit. “I barely know anyone.”

  “Nah, every kiss-ass in the state would be here to extend their sympathies to Callum. It’d be big. Not as big as mine, but it’d be good-sized.”

  “Nothing’s ever as big as yours, is it, East?” Gid says dryly.

  My eyes widen in surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him make a joke.

  Easton cackles. “You know it, bro.”

  His laugh is a little too loud for Callum, who turns around to glare at us. Easton shuts up immediately, looking slightly abashed. Gideon, on the other hand, glares right back. He folds his arms across his chest as if daring his father to come over and yell at us. Callum turns back to Steve with a sigh of resignation.

  “Ready to talk?” Gideon asks.

  Nodding, I follow the boys out of the aisle and the three of us walk into the hallway. Everyone else is moving into the next room to take the minister up on the refreshments offer, but we stay put.

  “Reed and I were talking the other night,” I start, though technically I was talking and Reed was telling me I was nuts. “We think maybe we should look into Brooke’s past, figure out if there’s anyone else who might have wanted her”—I lower my voice—“dead. I was hoping you could help with that.”

  He looks startled. “How exactly can I help? I barely knew Brooke.”

  Easton, however, instantly understands why I’ve come to Gideon with this. “Yeah, but you’re boning Dinah, and she knew Brooke better than anyone.”

  Gideon clenches his jaw. “Are you serious right now? Are you suggesting I hop back into bed with that…that…bitch,” he hisses, “just to try to squeeze some info out of her?”

  The anger reddening his face makes me take a timid step back. This is the first time I’ve seen Gideon lose his temper. He’s always been the most levelheaded of the Royals.

  “I’m not asking you to sleep with her,” I protes
t. “Just to grill her for some details.”

  He looks incredulous. “Are you really that naïve, Ella? You think I can spend a second with that woman without her trying to hump me?”

  I cringe in embarrassment.

  “So forget it,” he snaps. “Ever since Brooke died, Dinah’s been too upset to even pick up the phone and call me. As long as she doesn’t remember I exist, I get to live my fucking life without having to deal with her. Hopefully with Steve back, she’ll forget I ever existed.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It was a stupid idea.”

  Beside me, Easton shakes his head in disapproval. “Wow, Gid. That’s harsh. You don’t want to help Reed?”

  His brother’s jaw drops. “I can’t believe you just said that to me. Of course I want to help Reed.”

  “Yeah? Well, we both know he’d bang every cougar in the state if it was your neck on the line. Reed would do whatever it took to save you.”

  I can’t disagree with that. Reed is loyal to his core. He’d die for his family.

  Hell, he might’ve even killed for it.

  Stop it!

  I banish the awful thought and focus on Gideon. “Look, you don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable. All I’m asking is, if you’re around Dinah for some reason, maybe you can ask her if there’s anyone out there who may have hated Brooke? Like, what about any of these people inside?”

  He goes quiet for a moment. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank—”

  “But only if you do something for me,” he interjects.

  I wrinkle my forehead. “What?”

  “When are you moving in with Steve?”

  “What?” I’m even more bewildered.

  “When are you moving in with Steve?” he repeats.

  “Why would she move in with Steve?” Easton demands.

  “Because he’s her father,” Gideon says impatiently before focusing on me again. “Dinah must keep all her blackmail shit at her place. I need you to find it and get it back for me.”

  I frown. “Even if I was moving in with Steve,” which I don’t want to ever, “I wouldn’t know the first place to look.”

  “There must be a safe or something,” he insists.

  “Okay, and when I find this mythical safe, I’ll open it using the power of my brain or something?”