by D E Dennis
“What mistake?”
Michael smiled enigmatically, but didn’t respond.
He hopped out of the car the moment Monica killed the engine. He took off amid cries for him to slow down.
Samira caught up with him just as he unlocked the office door. “Michael, have you forgotten that someone tried to kill you?”
“Nope. You, my sister, and my aching throat won’t let me.”
She kissed her teeth. “You need to be within arm’s reach of me at all times.” Frown softening, she reached out and stroked his cheek. “I couldn’t stand for anything to happen to you.”
A smile lit upon his face as they gazed at each other, her grin widened until her dimple and chipped tooth were on display. Michael always thought both features were unbearably cute. He—
“Can you two make eyes at each other inside? Or at least don’t block the door?”
Michael and Samira sprang apart, both looking guilty of something, but Michael didn’t know what.
He cleared his throat. “Let’s go. I’ll explain everything to you inside.”
In they went. Ella sprang up out of her seat and captured Michael in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered.
Michael put his arms around her, hugging her back. “Me too.” He gave her one last squeeze then stepped back. “You know what to do?” he asked under his breath.
She nodded.
“I’m going to get the coffee brewing,” Monica said as she veered into the kitchen. “Don’t share your flash of insight until I get back.”
“No problem,” Michael replied. He drifted over to his chair and Samira followed, perching on the edge of his desk.
“You really think whatever you’ve figured out is enough to overcome the mountain of evidence stacked against Charles Cadal?”
He shook his head. “I think it’s enough to prove he wasn’t the only one who had the opportunity to push Beauty down the stairs. I’ll be honest, I still don’t know who it was.”
She gawked at him. “But you said you did.”
“I said I knew the phantom’s trick, not the phantom.”
“Does the trick not help us narrow down the suspects?”
“No, sadly. It’s ingenious that way. So incredibly simple, that anyone could have done it, but still clever enough to have us all fooled. I might have never figured it out if it wasn’t for the... sudden lack of oxygen to my brain.”
She heaved a sigh. “If you don’t know who the killer is, then I guess that means I’m sticking by you for the foreseeable future.”
“Okay,” Monica called out as she returned to the room with a mug of coffee in hand. “I’m ready to hear all—”
An ear-piercing scream ripped through the room. The mug fell from Monica’s hands, shattering into fragments at her feet.
“Ella!” she cried.
Samira’s hand flew to the gun at her hip while the other she shoved Michael back into his seat when he rose. “Stay there!”
She raced into the breakroom, and Michael followed at a sedate pace, blatantly disobeying her.
Ella lay prone on the floor, eyes closed and unmoving.
“Ella?! Ella, wake up? Are you alright?! Ella?”
“She’s fine,” Michael said calmly. He grabbed a seat on the couch. “Ella, you can wake up.”
Ella’s eyes popped open and she smiled into the women’s shocked faces. “I’m alright, guys. Sorry about that.”
“Wh-what?” Monica sputtered. “What is going on?!”
“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Michael said. “I just explained how the killer secured themselves an alibi.”
Monica leaped to her feet and advanced on him, arm raised to deliver a pop to the head. “You better explain it again, Michael, and while you’re at it, tell us why you both played such an awful trick on us. You scared us half to death!”
“That’s right,” he replied. “You were scared half to death. You heard a scream, came running in, saw someone you cared about on the floor, and that was all you needed to know to fly into a panic. You didn’t question how long she had been lying there, or if the scream came from her at all.”
Monica’s hand slowly returned to her side. “Came from her at all?”
He patted the couch cushion and the three women sat. Michael had their full attention. “It went like this: Beauty Cadal sits on her throne in full view of the room until around eight o’clock. She leaves the room, and someone is waiting for her at the top of those stairs. They push her, and she screams, of course, but that scream is not heard over the thumping music of the party.
“Beauty lies at the bottom of the stairs, unconscious, while the killer slips back into the party like nothing happened. The seconds tick down, and it gets closer to nine and the main event. Everyone knows what’s coming. At the precise moment Beauty was born there is supposed to be a big light show and a video of her life, so when Beauty is nowhere to be found as it gets closer to nine, the guards are sent to look for her, and this is where the killer proved their genius.
“Right next to the stairs, where Beauty was found, was the living room. As a director and film buff, Charles has this space tricked out like an actual movie theater. There is surround sound, a smart TV, massive speakers, the works. The killer uses this and His Bite is Worse Than His Bark to their advantage.
“That awful zombie dog film is a horror movie Beauty’s father cast her in when she still had dreams of being a movie star. A minor role where she didn’t say or do much except run around and scream. Emphasis on the screaming. With this DVD sitting right on the shelves, all the killer had to do was pop the movie in at the right time and let it play.”
Samira leaned forward, almost falling out of her seat. “But the guards would have noticed the TV on. Why didn’t they mention it?”
“Because it was off when they got there,” he replied.
“So the killer turned off the TV, and they didn’t notice that either?”
Michael shook his head. “Nope. The killer was long gone. The TV turned itself off.”
Michael got twin looks of confusion from Samira and Monica, and one grin from Ella, who he had already filled in on the trick.
“It was the smart TV,” he said confidently. “I didn’t know this before, but a quick look on the internet told me those things can be set to turn on and off at specific times. You just have to input them in beforehand.”
He suddenly turned to Monica. “You remember the day after the masquerade while we were looking through the house. You wanted to watch a movie on their screen and—”
“And the volume was turned up to deafening,” she cried, eyes bugging out. “For the love of all that’s good, why didn’t I see that before?” She stood and began pacing. “So one thing the killer knows for sure is the main event won’t start without Beauty in attendance. They know someone will go looking for Beauty when it gets closer to her birth time, so they hit play on the DVD at just the right time, rig the TV to turn on for the scream, and then turn off right after.
“This is a scream they wanted to be sure was heard so they turn the volume up as loud as it will go, and when the searching guards hear it, they come running and see Beauty lying at the bottom of the stairs...” She sighed. “Then it’s just like you said. They didn’t question how long she had been there or if the scream came from her. They assumed it must have happened right then, and as such, we’ve all been running around frantically trying to figure out how someone could have killed her while everyone was tucked away in the ballroom.”
“Not everyone,” said Michael gravely.
“Charles Cadal wasn’t in the ballroom,” said Samira. “Conveniently, he was out by himself getting the cake. Making him the only suspect who could have killed Beauty.”
“And that’s the problem,” Michael said. “Monica and I know the volume was turned up, and I saw the horror movie in the DVD player. This must be the trick the killer used, but if Charles was the killer...”
“... w
hy would he have been stupid enough to hang around by himself at the time he rigged it to go off?” Samira whispered. “He should have been inside the ballroom, making sure he was seen by two hundred witnesses.”
“Exactly.”
She shook her head. “Okay, I do have to admit things don’t add up, but that doesn’t explain the phones in his desk.”
“The phones were not there the first time we looked,” Michael said. “Don’t you find that odd?”
“No. You forget that Charles wasn’t there either. He went to the hospital with Beauty and did not come back until after you searched his house for the phone. He might have put the cellphones back in his desk when he returned home.”
Michael opened his mouth to argue but stopped. She had a good point.
“Also,” she continued. “It’s possible Charles came out to get the cake and found Beauty lying there. The scream goes off, startling him, and then people come running down the hall. He panics, not wanting to be found over his daughter’s body, so he snatches up the phone and makes a run for the kitchen.”
“That is... also possible.”
“He might not be the killer, but his fingerprints were on that burner. Do you also have a good explanation for why he would have the catfish’s phone?”
I just know it wasn’t him.
But Michael couldn’t say that. His feelings weren’t proof.
“No,” he said grudgingly. “I can’t explain that yet. But I will.”
“I hope you do, because I truly want to believe, for Beauty and Claudia, that it wasn’t what it looked like.”
Monica spoke up. “So we’re back where we started. Everyone is a suspect again.”
“We’ll re-open the case and go through Cadal Manor with a forensic team,” said Samira. “Dust the living room, the DVDs, the television, everything for prints. We’ll find something.”
Michael leaned back into the couch, lip between his teeth. He had thought this would be a bigger victory, but he was still no closer to getting Charles out of jail or finding out who attacked him and Beauty.
“Back where we started.” He blew out a breath as he got to his feet. “So, let’s get to work.”
He marched into the main room and got as far as Ella’s desk, before Monica grabbed his sleeve and hauled him back.
“Oh no. You dragged us down here because you wanted to show us the murderer’s trick. Well, you’ve showed us and now it’s time for you to go back home and rest. You sound like Frankenstein’s monster with that rasp.”
He tried protesting, but it was three against one. He found himself trussed up and deposited in the back of Monica’s car, headed for home.
“I’m staying with Mom tonight,” Monica was saying. “I think it will make her feel better, having me close by until the killer is caught. She wanted both of us to come back home, but I talked her down. The three of us barely fit in that house when we were half this size.”
“How’d you talk her down?” Michael said.
She smirked at him in the rearview mirror. “I told her Samira would be with you all day and all night. She was going to take very good care of you. She seemed satisfied with that.”
“Why did you tell her that?” Michael asked, screwing up his face. “Mira can’t stay with me. She has work to—”
“Actually,” Mira cut in, throwing a smirk his way. “Until the killer is caught, you are my work. An attempt has been made on your life and the killer is still on the loose. I’m sticking by you until the killer is caught. The chief’s and Mother Grimm’s orders.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.”
“Yes, she does.”
Michael didn’t bother arguing anymore. This was a fight he was destined to lose.
MICHAEL WAVED GOODBYE to his sister and led the way to his apartment, Samira by his side, scanning her environment. She was on high alert when he opened his door and made to go inside.
“Wait here,” she ordered, throwing up a hand. She tiptoed inside and did a sweep. The whole thing took five minutes.
“I’m guessing you didn’t find an assassin hiding in the shower?” he called.
She laughed. “We’re clear. You can come in.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked, kicking off his shoes. “I still have leftover Thai food, or we can go to the Little Pigs for lunch?”
“This was supposed to be my day off. I usually like to spend a quiet day at home, catch up on some reading, maybe even try my hand at cooking.”
“You? Cooking?”
“I did say try.”
Laughing, he grabbed her hand and dragged her off the couch. “It’s my fault you’re losing your day off, so the least I can do is have that quiet day with you. Come on, we’ll make lunch together and then we can read or watch a movie or two.”
He released her hand when they got into the kitchen, but Samira snagged it once more, holding it tight. He looked back at her, eyes questioning.
“Michael, this is not your fault, and I am not losing anything. Here with you, making sure you’re safe is exactly where I want to be. Monica was a mess when she called. Sobbing about you being unconscious in the hospital. I sped the whole way there, breaking all the traffic laws I’m supposed to uphold.” Her hand traveled up his arm and settled on his cheek. “I’ve never been more scared than I was at that moment, so like it or not, you got yourself another partner on this case.”
He smiled. “I like it just fine.”
Samira granted him one last grin before dropping her hand. “If we’re making lunch, we better get started. I’m starved. So what’s on the menu?”
“Ah ha.” He scurried over to the pantry, pulled something out, and presented it to Samira.
“What is that thing?”
“It’s a pasta cutter,” he said triumphantly. “I remember you saying it’s been a while since you had homemade pasta.”
“You know how to make pasta?” She stripped off her jacket and began rolling up her sleeves. “You been keeping that secret tucked away.”
“I recently learned,” he said with a chuckle. “We made fresh pasta in cooking class.”
“Cooking class?”
He answered while he took the ingredients down from the cabinets. “I haven’t been in weeks, but I joined a cooking class to keep my skills sharp. Monica is all singing lessons and self-defense classes. While I spend my time solving puzzles and eating.”
They fell into an easy conversation as Michael prepared the dough. Samira watched from his shoulder until he picked up the pasta cutter again. “Okay, Detective Reddy. It’s time to put you to work.”
She chuckled as Michael put the cutter in her hand and then came up behind her. “So you dust it with flour and then you start slicing.”
Samira stuck her hand into the flour bag and came out with a handful. “Like this?”
“A little more.”
“This?”
“A lot less!”
She dusted off the dough, tried again, and then placed the cutter over it. “So I just roll it over like—”
“Whoa!” Michael was quick to stay her hand and put a stop to her vigorous rolling. “Easy there, Reddy. Does it owe you money or something?”
She laughed so hard a snort exploded from her, and she clapped her floury hand over her mouth. She realized immediately what she had done and yanked her hand away, but it was too late.
Michael took one look at her white mustache and started howling.
Samira tried to fight it, but the giggles kept sneaking out of her until she was full-blown laughing too.
“A little help here, Mikey,” she said, gesturing at herself.
Michael picked up a kitchen towel and gently wiped her face, leaving behind nothing but a perfectly imperfect smile. “How about I help you with the pasta too?” he whispered.
“Might be for the best.”
Michael stepped in closer and placed his hand over hers.
“Just like this,” he said softly, lips
hovering next to her ear.
She turned her head and now his lips were hovering just above hers.
“Like that?” she whispered.
He felt the ghost of her breath on his mouth and it sent his heart into overdrive, beating so hard he was sure she could hear it. “Perfect.”
Michael went down just as Samira came up—
—and bonked his nose into hers.
They cried out and sprang apart, both clutching their noses.
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry,” Michael sputtered, mortified.
“It’s okay,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It’s been eight years since we’ve done this. We’re bound to be a little rusty.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “Let’s just focus on making lunch.”
So that’s what they did. Michael let Samira finish cutting and cooking pasta, while he made the sauce. The silence hung heavily between them as they sat down to eat.
Samira looked up from her bowl after a few minutes. “Now that everyone is a suspect again. Who do you think did it?”
Michael shook his head. “Hard to say. There is Gabriel Silva. Obsessed with Beauty, heartbroken over finding out she was involved with someone else and didn’t think they were serious. He says he didn’t want to hurt her, because finding out Spindle and the article was a fake would have been the best revenge, but I don’t know if I buy that.”
“Dangerous things can happen when love turns to obsession. Deadly things. He knew about Spindle, the emails, and the texts. He could have posed as Spindle to get her out of the party, and then he pushed her.”
Michael nodded along. “There is also Emma French. There is an anger there. A bitterness that she doesn’t try too hard to hide. She’s known Beauty her whole life, her mother works for her, and Beauty treated her like she didn’t matter. But with young women there could have been even more going on behind the scenes of their relationship that no one else knew about.”
“Think it could have something to do with her mother’s business?”
“Her what?”
She chuckled. “That’s why it pays to have a police detective around. Remember I told you, Dora French opened a bed-and-breakfast that went under? The sisters, Mary and Donna, also partnered up with her and threw all their savings into the business. The three of them had been working for the Cadals since Charles was a teenager and this was their first time striking out on their own. They were back on his doorstep within a year, begging for their old jobs back.”