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by Robin Jeffrey

  I waited a moment before strolling into the sitting room, hands in my pockets. “Everything alright, Doctor?”

  Merton started as I entered, glancing around the room as if he’d forgotten something. He flexed his hand in and out of a fist, sighing. “Yes, perfectly fine. Poor thing’s just a bit hysterical. Understandably, of course.”

  He dropped a small vial of burgundy liquid into the medical bag at his feet. Following my line of sight, he smiled, waving to it. “I was trying to give Desdemona a light sedative; calms the nerves. Would you like some? I’d be more than happy to–”

  “No, no thank you, Doctor.” I collapsed into the plush love seat across from him with a grunt. “No need of your potions today.”

  He shrugged and returned to his bag, latching it shut before walking to the door.

  “Actually, I was wondering: do you remember the last time you saw my father? On the night he was killed, I mean.”

  Merton stopped, turning to look at me, his brow furrowed. I leaned forward, spreading my hands in front of me. “I was just curious if he was still feeling unwell from the night before.”

  Merton seemed to consider the question and find it harmless enough to answer, taking several steps back into the room and adjusting his glasses. “I believe when I last saw him, he was heading upstairs from the library. I had just come from Miss Tanith’s room – she had been complaining of a headache – when I noticed him on the stairs. I called out, asked if he needed anything, but he said he was alright and told me to go to bed. That was around eleven, I think.”

  “Did he seem alright?”

  Merton’s brows rose and fell. “Yes, fine. Quite his usual self.”

  I watched him a beat longer than necessary, trying to intimidate the truth out of him. But he gave no further answer, just peered at me, grimacing.

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Merton inclined his head and walked again through the door, this time making it all the way into the hallway before turning around and clearing his throat, back hunched, head bowed. I glanced up at him and he crossed his arms, rubbing the inside of his wrist with his thumb.

  “I wanted to say, Mr. Hale, how terribly sorry I am that this happened. I admit to feeling almost responsible for the way things have turned out for you and your family. I–I couldn’t alleviate your poor mother’s suffering, may she rest in peace, and–and now…” His dark brown hair fell into his eyes, and he shoved it back, deflating, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose it’s silly, but I can’t help but feel I’m bad luck to you.”

  I pressed my hand to my chest, smiling. “I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but believe me: I don’t blame you for a thing. I know you’ve done all you could.”

  Watching him leave, I pondered my next move. Getting to my feet with a spring in my step, I proceeded to the servant’s quarters, an area into which I had never ventured, seeking to interview the household staff. Alarmed by my presence, and with the fear of dismissal palpable in their looks, the staff proved reticent to the point of obnoxious and I learned next to nothing.

  The realization that as the head of the household I would have been well within my rights to fire the lot of them unnerved me. Ambition had never been counted among my many sins, the pursuit of it leading to the accumulation of responsibilities; fetters I had always avoided. Now it seemed that the shackles of accountability were cinched tight, a noose around my innocent neck, with no reprieve forthcoming.

  On my way upstairs, a young maid mustered the bravado to demand the return of my breakfast dishes. Enamored of her boldness, I promised to send them down at once. However, the cart, sitting where I had abandoned it beside my bed, refused to be moved. I bent down to see what the trouble was and found a scrap of cloth caught in one of the wheels. Tugging the scrap loose, I slipped it into my jacket pocket, thinking that I would dispose of it in the kitchen incinerator later.

  With the dinner hour drawing near and the sun setting, I began to worry that Cadence, still not returned from her somnambulate indulgences, would be unable to find her way back to the house in the dark. Throwing a light coat over my shoulders, I stepped out onto the patio, resolved to head out to retrieve my guest, when Victoria skidded around the corner, taking the stairs up to the porch two at a time.

  “Hello, Vicky!”

  She looked up with a start. Even the dim light couldn’t hide the deep scowl on her face. She spun on her heels and stomped back the way she came.

  “Vicky?”

  She took the steps down to the lawn as quick as she dared in her high heeled shoes, struggling to maintain an air of dignity, and gripping the wall next to her as she went. “I’ve decided I’m not speaking to you, Chance!”

  I smirked, hopping down the stairs after her. “Clearly your mouth and your brain are at war with each other, darling.”

  Victoria turned at my snide remark, missing the last step and pitching forward. I reached out and grabbed her shoulders, but she knocked me away, leaning against the house and sputtering.

  “Now,” stepping back, I thrust my hands into my pockets, “what have I done to deserve this cruel and unusual punishment?”

  “Isn’t Miss Turing around somewhere?” Victoria stuck out her chin, casting exaggerated glances around us. “I’m amazed she’s not underfoot at this very moment, following you about like a stray dog.”

  Victoria… jealous? After all this time? I had too high an opinion of her intelligence to think her ignorant of my many trysts in the past, and yet, she had, up until this point, shown no inkling of jealousy. Still, I knew how to respond to such outbursts, and it took me less than a moment to adjust my demeanor, sighing and rolling my eyes. “Oh, I know. It’s awful, isn’t it?”

  Victoria stared, arms falling to her sides. “What?”

  I rested my hand above her shoulder, shaking my head and shrugging. “Poor thing is just so helpless, you know? If I’d known all this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have brought Cadence here at all; now I’m stuck with the clingy woman.”

  Victoria’s armor melted away, her body slumping against the wall. She attempted a glower, but it lacked all conviction. “I got the impression that you rather liked being clung to, Chance, dear.” I squeezed her arm and saw the smile in her eyes. “That you were enjoying your chance to play the knight in shining armor.”

  I closed the gap between us with a step, tutting. “Please, my darling–” I laid a soft kiss on one corner of her mouth, “–sweet–” my lips brushed the opposite corner, “–vivacious Victoria,” I pushed myself against her, lifting her chin up and resting my forehead against hers, grinning. “You know I much prefer playing the dashing rogue.”

  I kissed her full on the mouth, running my tongue along her bottom lip before cupping the back of her head with my hand and pulling her deep into my embrace. The setting sun warmed my back, save for the slender bands where Victoria wrapped her arms around me. I drew away, smattering kisses on her cheek and chin.

  Her face flush, she seemed otherwise unmoved by my affection, a smirk twisting her lips. “That’s because you do it so well.”

  “Yes, I do, don’t I?” I nuzzled the tip of her nose, my smile shrinking. “The truth is Vicky, you were right. I’m just terribly upset about this business with my father. I’m in really big trouble this time and I don’t know how I’m going to get myself out of it.”

  Victoria gave a soft, unconvincing coo of pity, cradling my face in her hands. “Is there anything I can do to help?” She slid her hands down my neck and chest, settling on my hips and squeezing. “Any way I can…take your mind off your troubles?”

  “Mm, I can always think of things like that. But you could help me another way too.”

  “What’s that?” All traces of the bitter, envious Victoria had fled, replaced by a happy, delusional young woman.

  “Brisbois is so damned certain I’m the killer, but there has to be something, some little detail that can get me clear of all this. Was there anything you could tell him about th
e night my father died? Anything useful that you noticed?”

  “No, I’m sorry, pet. I slept straight through the night. After all, I was so exhausted after we…”

  She wound her tongue around her lips, digging her light green nails into my hip. I fought the urge to pull away, something in the pit of my stomach growing heavy, and forced myself to kiss her with a growl, raking my hand through her hair and not stopping until oxygen became an issue for the both of us.

  I eased back, swallowing, leaving Victoria to gasp in the cool evening air as she shook her head. “No, I wasn’t any use to the Inspector at all. But you know what I did see?”

  I tilted my head to one side, lifting a brow in question.

  “Well,” Victoria threw her arms around me again, “when he was interviewing me, Brisbois got a call and had to step outside to take it. I was walking around the room, stretching my legs and I saw a picture of Desdemona on his screen.” She closed her eyes as if the memory pained her, groaning. “And she looked awful, just awful, and terribly young; it must have been from years ago. Anyway, you won’t believe it, but it was a mug shot!”

  The weight in my stomach solidified into lead. Victoria giggled, grinning wide. “Apparently, our Desdemona used to be a drogan addict and stole some jewelry to pay for the habit; picked the lock on a cabinet in some house in District 12, grabbed the stuff and ran! So, I guess we know who stole the Negrescu now, don’t we?”

  I struggled to nod, my mind miles away, back at the morning before, when I had pounded in vain on my father’s locked door, trying to wake the dead. Could Desdemona have picked the lock, snuck inside, and killed him? Had my father found out about her less than savory past and threatened to leave her, forcing her into desperate action?

  “Are you alright, Chance?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at Victoria’s face, staring instead at her shoulder. “Yes, dearest, I’m fine. It’s just a shock, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, not really! You said that she was a worthless little tramp, and you were right!” Victoria pulled me close to her, pushing her face into my neck. “It’s a shame you can’t throw her out of the house right now, but soon it will all be yours. And we can enjoy it together, just like we always talked about.”

  “I can’t wait, dove.”

  Victoria looked up at me, head falling to one side. She smiled after a moment, patting my back. “I think I’ll head inside; dinner should be ready soon.”

  I worked up a smile in kind and stepped back, waving to the house. “I’ll catch you up.”

  She blew me a kiss as she moved up the stairs, disappearing onto the porch. At the sound of the door latching shut behind her, I let out a huff, shaking out my rumpled clothes with a shiver.

  I turned and walked into the twilight, more intent on finding Cadence than ever, when I saw, with a start, that she had found me. Standing by the far corner of the patio, leaning against the brick, I could tell she must be looking in my direction, but any details of her face were blotted out by the deepening shadows.

  “What were you doing?”

  “Trying to get some information out of Victoria,” I started towards her, missing the flatter than usual tone of her voice. “I think–”

  “I don’t like her.”

  I stopped, brow furrowing. “That’s fine; the feeling’s mutual.”

  Cadence’s eyes were unnaturally bright in the darkness, illuminating her deep frown like a torch. She turned away, pressing herself flush against the brickwork, arms crossed over her stomach. “I don’t want you to be alone with her.”

  I jerked back, shaking my head, trying to clear out the static of surprise and find my words, a smile splitting my face. “Cadence, are you… are you jealous?”

  She rolled back her shoulders, sliding down the wall. “No. That would imply that I felt some sort of exclusive attachment to you which, hila, would be silly.”

  “Not that silly.”

  Taking in a deep breath, her head fell to one side as she glared. “If she is the murderer, she could be dangerous. Besides, it’s traditional for the two detectives to work the case together. If we go off on our own, we might miss something the other wouldn’t. So, you should stay. With me.” Her smile, born of triumphant reasoning, dimmed, her eyes narrowing. “Not Victoria.”

  I swallowed down a peal of laughter, tongue pinched between my teeth. “Alright, Cay, alright. You’re the expert, I suppose.” Stepping closer to her, I placed my hands against the wall on either side of her head and leaned in, my voice a rough whisper. “I wouldn’t mind if you were jealous, you know. I’d think it was sweet.”

  Cadence, darling Cadence, so stoic and unflappable, slipped for a moment, breaking eye contact to glance at my arms before shaking her head. “Unfortunately, I am not jealous, therefore, not sweet.”

  “You really are though.” I brushed the front of my body against hers, my lips at her ear. “Very, very sweet.”

  A soft, suckling kiss on the underside of her jaw would have proved my point, but that was the moment when Belinda’s voice cut through the stillness like a chainsaw.

  “Chance!” Her shadow thrown down against the grass, Belinda’s footsteps clattered across the porch above us. “Chance, dear!”

  I pulled back from the object of my desire with a sigh. Cadence stared at me, one side of her mouth cocked upwards in a cheeky grin. The sight of her sent a throb of pleasure through me that made my knees buckle. Having no time to inquire after her pleasing expression, I grabbed her wrist and tugged her up onto the patio with me.

  Belinda, relieved rather than puzzled at our sudden appearance, ceased her hand wringing. Eyes red from crying, she still held herself tall, reaching out to me for comfort.

  “There you are, dear. There was a call for you from the EO Medical Department. They said they moved your father to Drexel’s Funeral Parlor, per his solicitor’s instructions. You can go in and make the arrangements tomorrow, if you feel up to it.”

  My seductive bravado crumbled like so much dried sand, smile disappearing as my shoulders hunched. Cadence stepped forward, hand on my arm. “This would be your opportunity to view the body, yes?”

  “I suppose so, but–”

  “You feel up to it.” She swept past us, undoing the clasps of her shirt in preparation of her changing for dinner. “I’ll meet you out front after breakfast, and we can head out then.”

  Belinda shook her head, waiting until Cadence’s heavy foot falls had faded away before speaking. “I don’t like the way that woman talks to you, Chance. You’re the head of this family; you deserve to be treated with respect.”

  I clicked my tongue against my teeth, wrapping an arm around Belinda’s shoulders and kissing her cheek as I led her inside. “Don’t worry about Cadence, Aunt Be. She’s just trying to take care of me.”

  14

  Chapter 14

  The morning dawned drizzly but warm, a presage of the monsoon season soon to come. Cadence sat beside me in the back of the PT, fingers at her lips as I told her everything I had gleaned from my solo investigations: from Dr. Merton and Desdemona’s argument in the sitting room to the illuminating results of Victoria’s snooping.

  Absorbing all this information with the quiet voracity of a sponge, Cadence kept her questions until I had finished, hand falling into her lap. “What’s drogan?”

  “It’s a drug; a liquid that you inject into any major vein, like the ones in the arm. Users get frenzied on it – very strong, very dangerous. It’s instantly addictive; the high makes you feel like a god, apparently.”

  “Do you think Desdemona is still using this narcotic?”

  “Not a chance. My father may have made some bad decisions as far as Desdemona was concerned, but he hated addicts of all kinds. She would have had to take regular drug tests to work at Halcyon Enterprises anyway.” Cadence looked at me, eyebrow raised in question. “That’s where they met.”

  “So, it’s possible to stop using drogan?”

  “Possible, but ha
rd. I think they have some rehabilitation clinics down south.”

  Cadence leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs. “These files the EO keep sound extremely useful. I wonder if I could get Inspector Brisbois to let me see some of them.”

  “And just how would you manage that?”

  Cadence smiled, running a hand through her hair. “Ask nicely, of course.”

  Grimacing, I turned to look out the window, squirming as the first pang of jealousy hit me like an iron bar to the stomach. I was almost certain that acts of useful flirtation were beyond my preprogrammed prize, but I had seen the way she and Brisbois had been carrying on and found it hard to ignore the obvious attraction between them, counterfeit or no.

  Drexel’s Funeral Parlor, where the most affluent citizens of Zahia came to rest, stunk of formaldehyde, synthetic flowers, and overworked electronics. We spent our first hour there sitting in the funeral director’s office, talking at great length about my father, a subject upon which the director seemed to consider himself an expert, despite having only met the man as a corpse. A grim little man with smooth palms and knotted fingers, furry eyebrows hunched over his dulled brown eyes, he wriggled as he spoke.

  With all the arrangements and forms done away with, we were escorted to the mortuary to view the body before it came under the director’s ministrations. The director balked at this request at first. He insisted that it was hardly customary to let the family view the body before it had been properly seen to, explaining that the whole experience may be upsetting. But after a while he relented, accepting my explanation that due to the circumstances of my father’s demise, I felt I had not yet truly had an opportunity to accept his death and that this would help. Talking all the while, he cycled between empty condolences and practical cost estimates with ease.

  “Am I right in remembering that your father requested a burial, rather than a cremation, Mr. Hale?”