by D E Dennis
“Then, the second attempt with the studio light. At this point, Beauty did not have one person following her around and tracking her movements, she had two. But while Gabriel did not know about Malia, Malia did know about him. She dropped the light when she knew he would be watching, hoping that he would notice a figure fleeing, alert the police that it wasn’t an accident, and they would look into it and follow the trail she would lead to Charles.
“But again, things went wrong. Gabriel decided he would be Beauty’s knight in shining armor. He told no one about what he only sort of glimpsed, and as time passed with no other attempts on her life, he convinced himself he had imagined it. What kind of killer waits that long to strike anyway?
“But, of course, the answer is you, Malia. You waited over two decades, you would wait another year if it meant carrying out your perfect plan. So wait you did, and carry out the plan you did, but this time it was far from perfect, because you didn’t account for something.”
Malia lifted her brow, a sneer playing on her lips. “Account for something? Darling, I did not do it at all. You’ve spun quite a little fairy tale, but I had nothing to do with Beauty’s fall or those accidents.”
He smirked. “You obviously can’t ask outright what you didn’t account for but, don’t worry, I’ll tell you.”
She snarled. “I’ve had enough of your flippant tone! I did not hurt that girl!”
“You didn’t hurt Beauty,” he shot back. “You killed her! You deceived her, pushed her down the stairs, and you tried to frame her father for the crime, but what you didn’t account for... was us.”
Michael pointed at himself and his sister, who was glowering at Malia hard enough to set her headwrap ablaze.
“Grimm Investigations wasn’t supposed to come on the scene. We weren’t supposed to mess with the entertainment system, before you had a chance to lower the volume and return the DVD to the shelf. We weren’t supposed to find out Gabriel was a stalker—”
“I’m not a—”
“Shut up!” half a dozen people shouted at Gabriel and he fell silent with a scowl.
Michael kept right on going. “We weren’t supposed to question the convenience of having a witness to the second attempt and wonder if there was more to the story. I wasn’t supposed to know what it was like to nurse a decades-old grudge or to know that you can wait years before you finally drop the mask that hid your pain, and I wasn’t supposed to have a father that reminded me that there are some things you never forgive... like making a parent lose their children.”
He shook his head. “Charles knew the enormity of his transgressions. He knew he did not deserve your forgiveness, so his gratefulness at having received it blinded him. He welcomed you into his life, into his daughter’s life, and that was his mistake, but for now let’s focus on yours.
“You thought everything was going perfectly until I came to the funeral and announced that Charles was innocent and that I would prove it.” He leveled a finger at her. “You came to our office that night and lay in wait; when I came out, you strangled me.
“I didn’t understand why at first. Killing me wouldn’t have stopped the investigation. It wouldn’t have implicated Charles, who was sitting safely in jail. It was an incredibly risky thing to do that would have accomplished nothing except my death.” He sighed, shrugging. “But then you didn’t do it to achieve something. You did it because you were angry. You flew into a rage at the very thought that after years of careful planning, I was going to ruin everything. You got angry, Malia, and it made you sloppy.”
“I have done nothing!” she screeched. “I did not attack you or anyone else and you have no proof that says otherwise!”
A smirk spread across Michael’s face. “But I do have proof, Malia. I said you were sloppy. You made two mistakes.
“The night you tried to kill me, I felt something cool and smooth on my neck. I felt... this.” Michael slipped his hand into his coat and pulled out a black leather headwrap. He unraveled it and held it out for everyone to see. “This is your headwrap, Malia, the one you used to strangle me. You can see the scratches from where I desperately clawed at my neck. You tried to get rid of it but, as you can see, you didn’t try hard enough. I’m sure the police won’t have any trouble matching the hairs and the skins cells on this.”
Malia Diragoni blanched, going white at the sight of the wrap. She looked from the wrap... to Michael... to the wrap... and then her eyes darted around the room. Michael knew what she was going to do, moments before she did it.
Her face twisted. “Ahhh!” she screamed, before leaping to her feet and making a run for him. Claws extended, ready to wrap around his throat once more.
She made it three steps before Monica reeled back and swung. Laying her out with one solid punch to the face.
Malia spun and dropped like a stone. Out cold.
Chapter Nine
“He was the murderer, not me!” she screamed as Samira dragged her to Spencer’s waiting police car. “He killed my Alaina! He never cared about her, but he loved that precious Beauty! I pushed her so he would know what it was like to lose everything!” The headwrap came loose in the struggle and long, black locks escaped their prison. Malia glared at Michael through the wild strands of her hair and swollen eye, and he was suddenly overcome with a vision of a true phantom. Pale, vengeful, and always haunting.
He shivered as the detectives finally got her into the car and closed the door on her screams. “I’m not going to sleep for a week,” he said as he threw an arm around his sister.
Samira dusted off her hands and she and her partner joined them on the front steps. “That was impressive work, Michael. Although, don’t think I’m not upset with you.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Malia’s mistake,” she said, frowning. “She made the mistake of tossing the headwrap she used to strangle you where you could find it, but if you had it the whole time, why didn’t you hand it over to me?” she demanded. “Instead, you hoard a key piece of evidence, so that you could pull it out when you put on your big show.”
She looked so disappointed in him he rushed to explain. “Samira, that is not what happened, and that is not one of the mistakes she made.” He grinned. “I bought this headwrap a couple of hours ago at a women’s clothing store. I scratched it up in the car and then whipped it out at the right time to get her to confess. Her mistake... was that she fell for it.”
Three jaws dropped. “Are you serious, Grimm?” Spencer sputtered. “You’re telling me you came up with that on your own, at the last minute?”
“You’re welcome. The evidence was thin. You needed a confession to close this up neatly, and I got you one. I was quite busy while you were rounding up suspects. I got your chief to let me speak to Charles and got the full story of what happened to Alaina Cadal, fabricated evidence, and finally figured out how Charles’s prints got on Spindle’s phone.”
“How?” Samira asked, eyes sharpening.
“The cake. Charles always brings in the cake on Beauty’s birthday, but this time, there was something wrong with it. At the last minute, Malia scraped off a mound of icing and then left it for the caterer to find. What else can she do but call the party planner? Malia answered the phone with her gloved hands, says ‘you should speak to Charles about this,’ and then puts it in his bare hands so that he—”
“—gets his prints all over it,” Monica finished. “He speaks to the caterer, hands it back, and just like that he goes from loving father to disturbed predator and murderer. Dang, she was good. She thought of everything.”
The four of them looked back at the woman screaming at them through the window.
“She was good,” Samira said softly. “Just not good enough.”
Michael’s grin suddenly disappeared. “So, Mira, what’s going to happen to Charles?”
She sighed. “He had no hand in Beauty’s death, so the charges will be dropped. As for Alaina Cadal’s death, he should have paid for his crime then a
nd if I had my way, he would pay for it now. But the statute of limitations is up, Clark Cadal is long gone as is the officer who accepted the bribe. He’ll be released and free to go home.”
They were quiet for a moment. Michael could guess they were thinking the same thing. How one irrevocable act could ignite a hatred that would last for years to come.
“Why did she wait so long?” Monica whispered, proving Michael right. “If she hates Beauty for taking her daughter’s place, then why did she wait eighteen years to strike?”
“I can only guess,” Michael said, “but Alaina was the center of her world. She would always see her how she was: a sweet, innocent baby that was taken from her by a monster. She couldn’t bring herself to hurt Beauty when she was a child, because it hit too close to home.”
They fell silent once more.
“So what was the other thing?” Spencer asked abruptly.
“What?”
“You said Diragoni made another mistake. What was it?”
“Oh.” Michael chuckled. “That’s simple. Malia’s mistakes were falling for my trick... and pissing off Monica Grimm. She paid dearly for that last one.”
They dissolved into laughter.
Monica lifted her chin. “What? No one messes with my family.”
AS WAS BECOMING A GRIMM family custom, his mother ordered him and his sister back to the house for a celebratory dinner.
Samira hauled Malia away with promises to join them after they processed her and Spencer left with Monica-shaped, googly eyes, promising to come as well even though no one technically invited him.
The siblings got into their car and left Cadal Manor, and all the pain hidden behind the glamorous façade, behind.
It was to a much happier home that they headed for and when Michael climbed out of his car and saw his father’s limo parked on the street, he didn’t scowl. When Monica threw herself into Glenmore’s arms and launched into their story of apprehending a killer, he didn’t leave the room, and when his father put his arm around him and said, “I hope it’s okay if I stay for dinner, son.”
Michael didn’t shake him off. Instead, he grinned and replied, “Sure, Dad. There’s a lot we have to catch up on.”
The End
Read on for a sneak peek into the third book of the Fairy Tale Mystery Series, A Trail of Breadcrumbs.
A Trail of Breadcrumbs
Sneak Peek
Beams of light broke through the trees, shifting as the branches swayed with the wind. Under different circumstances, Hazel would have stopped to listen to the mesmerizing sounds of Siren Woods. The woods so named because, on gusty days such as these, the howling winds whipped through the forest and enticed the trees to sing. Any other time, she would have enjoyed it... but not this time.
Eight-year-old Hazel tripped over a root and pitched forward, but her father hauled her back to her feet. He did not pause in his trek.
“Dad,” she said, tugging at her wrist. Her father had her in a viselike grip. “Dad, where are we going?”
Liam Antarr did not answer. He did not even turn his head.
On his other side, Hazel’s brother, Gregory, tugged on her father’s jacket. “Dad, I want to go home.” Greg scrabbled at the hand closed over his own. “I want to go home, Dad!”
The twins stumbled over tree roots and ducked snarled branches as their father led them deeper and deeper into the woods. Soon not even the sun’s light could penetrate the thick copse of trees, but yet they did not stop.
Hazel didn’t know how long they had been walking but she felt it was hours later when Greg spoke again.
“Dad, I’m tired,” he whined. “My feet hurt.”
“We can stop here, son,” Liam said, surprising her.
The hand holding hers disappeared and she snatched it back, rubbing her wrist.
Her father pointed at a fallen log just ahead of them. “Why don’t you and your sister sit and rest for a while.”
Gregory looked up at him. “After will we go home?”
“Yes, son,” he replied softly. “This will all be over soon.”
“Come on, Hazel.”
Hazel grasped her twin brother’s outstretched hand and together they clambered over rocks and roots to reach the log. They sat down and Hazel glanced up, looking for her father.
Her smile immediately fell away.
“Dad?” she called.
Where had he gone? He was right behind them.
“Dad!” she yelled.
Greg was still holding her hand and his grip tightened hard enough to hurt. “Dad!” he screamed, echoing her rising panic.
Hazel freed herself from Greg and shot up. She stumbled around, frantically calling for her father but she received no answer.
Hazel halted her search when her brother’s panicked cries for their father turned into panicky cries for her. She couldn’t afford to lose sight of him too or they might never find each other.
Siren Woods wasn’t only named for the singing trees. The tales of old spoke of gorgeous creatures who lured men to their watery deaths and Siren Woods was much like its namesake. Lonely, beautiful, peaceful, but with trees that grew so thick and similar that paths could not be formed, landmarks could not be differentiated, and the sun could not break through.
Hazel clung to her brother as one terrifying thought echoed through her head.
Those who got lost in Siren Woods... were never seen again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
D.E. DENNIS HAD SPENT most of her life within the pages of a book and now she is thrilled to have the opportunity to invite people into the worlds she creates.
When she is not writing, she is traveling, eating too much cheesecake, and traveling some more. Join her newsletter for news of her next release.
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You can find me at:
Website: dedennis.com
Email: [email protected]
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OTHER WORKS BY D.E. DENNIS
Madame Moon Series
Words of Wisdom
Love Heals
Laughter is the Best Medicine
Fairy Tale Mystery Series
Once Upon A Murder
Beauty in Death
A Trail of Breadcrumbs
Copyright © 2018 by D.E. Dennis
Cover Illustration by Mariah Sinclair at https://www.mariahsinclair.com/
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.