by D E Dennis
Michael took the printouts and left the office. Consulting the schedules, he traversed the tiled, dimly lit halls. Lance and Auggie, actually Augustus, both had honors English literature for first period and that class started ten minutes ago. Michael would catch them up when class let out, but while he waited there was one place he wanted to see.
The student council office.
Michael climbed to the second floor and turned down the first hall. It was almost spooky how well he remembered where to go.
Directly in front of him, exactly where he knew it would be, the office door loomed. Michael tried the handle and was relieved to see it was unlocked, and after he stepped in, he was even more relieved to see he was alone.
The office was a converted classroom, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a luxurious space. Rows of bookshelves covered the walls and lined up in front of them were four desks in two neat rows all sitting before a desk that was twice as big as all of them. The desk of the president.
Michael bypassed the others and went straight to Preston’s. He wasted no time in pulling out the drawers and rifling through the items on top of the desk. There was a laptop which he opened and booted up while he removed the notebooks, textbooks, binders, and folders out of the drawers.
He took his time flipping through the pages of the notes and binders, but there was nothing in them but math problems and homework. He pushed them aside and tried the folders next.
Prom Theme Ideas. Student Council Budget. Homecoming Entertainment.
Organized. Meticulous.
Michael recalled the state of his desk before he emptied its contents.
Everything in its place.
Finally, a picture of this kid was starting to form. The prince of Castle Rock Prep worked hard to get and keep the title. No evidence of slacking here.
Michael forgot about the files for a moment and turned to the laptop. He looked through the files, the recycle bin, he even checked the browser history, but there was nothing there that shouldn’t be. Just more information for running the student council and a few homework-related searches.
Not that I expected to find anything else. The administration is very open about how they monitor and track all student activity. Preston would be an idiot to be doing anything shady or illegal on these computers, and whatever he might have been, I don’t believe he was that.
He checked the time.
Nine fifty.
Class would let out in ten minutes. It was time to go.
Gathering a stack of folders, he pulled out the bottom drawer and made to put them in.
He paused, eyes narrowing.
The files were dropped back on the desk with a smack and he hunched over the empty drawer, examining it closely. Michael straightened and then opened the drawer on his other side and did the same thing.
I was right.
The dimensions for the drawers were off. They looked to be the same size when closed, but the one on his right was deeper than the one on his left.
Michael stuck his hand in the shallow one and felt around. He slid his palm to the back and pressed, forcing the false bottom to pop up and reveal the hiding place.
Michael whistled. He pulled out the first bottle, then the second, then the third.
Preston Charming. Organized, meticulous, and... a drinker.
Three bottles of vodka stared back at Michael. One already three-quarters empty.
He leaned back in the desk chair, considering. It made sense that he hid this. Being found in possession of alcohol was an automatic expulsion, a punishment that the no-nonsense Mrs. Wolf would have carried out no matter who the student’s parents were.
No, that he hid it was logical. It was how he hid it that impressed Michael. No one would have found this unless they were looking for it. Michael almost missed it himself.
Preston was clever. I wonder what else the young prince was hiding.
MICHAEL HOOFED IT TO the English lit class and arrived just as it let out. Students streamed out of the class, racing in all directions, but Michael had no clue what the ones he was looking for looked like.
“Lance! Augustus!”
Two boys were already halfway down the hall when they pulled up at the sound of their names. Michael made a beeline for them.
Backpacks worth more than his month’s rent slung over one shoulder, the school blazer slung over the other. Loose ties. Polished handmade shoes. Easy grins.
These were the guys he was looking for.
Michael stopped in front of them. “You Lance and Augustus?”
“It’s Auggie,” corrected the one with the curly brown hair and gold watch. “We know you?”
Michael shook his head. “My name is Michael Grimm. I’m—”
“Grimm?” they said at once. They both looked him up and down, probably noting his lack of gold watches and handmade shoes.
Lance squinted at him through the golden locks covering his eyes. “Who’s your old man?”
“Who’s yours?” he replied smoothly.
“Lance Hart of Hart Hospitals.”
“Auggie Greer. Greer Construction.”
Some things never change.
Over a decade later and CRP students were still sizing each other up based on who their mommies and daddies were. Michael hated this game when he was a student because he never knew if he was winning or losing.
Michael slipped his business card out of his pocket. “Michael Grimm of Grimm Investigations. I’m looking into the death of your friend Preston.”
Their eyes went round.
“A private investigator?” Lance said, grinning. “Cool.”
“Do you carry a gun?” Auggie asked eagerly.
“’Fraid not. I’m armed only with my wits.”
Lance shrugged, passing the card back. “Less cool, but whatever.”
Michael studied them. They seem more upset about me not packing than they do about the reason I’m here.
“I was wondering if I could ask you guys some questions about Preston.”
Lance jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Can’t now, dude. We have to get to class.”
“You can be late. I cleared it with the headmistress. Just blame the tardy on me.”
They shrugged. “Sweet.”
“What do you want to know?” Auggie asked.
“How long have you guys been friends?”
Lance raked his fingers through his hair smooshing it back. Michael was unsurprised to see it was still perfect. “Since sophomore year.”
“Were you guys at his party last weekend?”
“Dude, everybody was at the party last weekend. It. Was. Sick. Tell him, Auggie.”
Auggie nodded. “Sick. Even some of the townies dropped by. Usually, we kick them out, but everyone was too blissed out to care. And those girls were hot. Especially, that one girl. She was just wow.”
Michael ignored that. “Everyone was blissed out? No fights. No arguments. No threats made toward Preston.”
“Nah, nothing like that.” Lance shook his head. “And usually we do have some idiot get drunk and try to start something, but not this time.”
“Was Preston drinking that night?”
The grins melted off their faces and they shared a look.
Michael put his hands up disarmingly. “Hey, I’m not here to get anyone in trouble. I only care about finding Preston’s killer. I’m not going to the cops with anything you guys tell me... unless, of course, you did it.”
They laughed, visibly relaxing.
“Yeah,” Lance admitted. “Preston had a few, but like I said he didn’t get into it with anyone. He spent half the night chilling with Abby on his lap.”
“What about the other half?”
“What?”
“You said he was with Abigail most of the night. What about the rest of the time?”
“Dude, I don’t know. I wasn’t following him around all night.”
“So if no new grudges sprang up at the party, what about old one
s? Was everyone at school cool with Preston?”
“Everyone loved Preston,” Auggie said.
Was there an echo in here?
“He was a Charming,” he continued. “All the guys wanted to be him, and all the girls wanted to be with him.”
Michael shifted, sticking his hands in his pocket. “Speaking of girls. What about exes? Abigail Ino told me she and Preston only dated for six months. What about before they got together?”
Auggie and Lance shared another look and Michael zeroed in on it.
“What?” he urged. “Was there a bad breakup?”
“There was...” Auggie began, looking uncomfortable. “But it wasn’t on Preston. They went out for two years then the chick up and cheats on him and dumps him for another guy. This was a month before he and Abby hooked up.”
“What’s her name?”
“Peyton Dunn. She goes here, but she’s a townie.”
“You know what class she’s in right now?”
“The class we’re supposed to be in. You can hit her up when it lets out.”
He nodded. Time to get to the point. “Do you guys know how Preston died?”
Lance winced. “They said he was killed in the woods,” he said softly.
“He was lured into the woods,” Michael said gently. Their calm and collected masks were starting to crack and he wanted to keep his promise to treat them with sensitivity. “Someone texted him and asked him to meet them there. Any idea who that could have been?”
“No idea,” Auggie said.
“He didn’t tell his parents where he was going or why. Did Preston call you that night?”
Twin headshakes.
“Where were you guys Friday night?”
“I was home,” Lance said. “Parents wouldn’t let me out till I finished my science project.”
“Same,” Auggie echoed. “Same project. Same uptight parents.”
That should be easy enough to confirm. “Alright, thanks, guys. That is all I have for now, but if you think of anything that could be important, call me.” He handed back the card and watched Lance slip it into his pocket. “What’s your next class?”
“Calculus.”
“How will I know who Peyton Dunn is?”
Auggie smirked. “Believe me, you’ll know. See you around, Grimm. Oh, and one more thing”—his face twisted, clouding with anger—“find the trash who did this.”
“I will.”
Auggie and Lance turned and loped off to class.
“Hey, wait.”
They paused, looking over their shoulder.
Michael closed the distance between them. “Did you guys know about Preston’s stash in his student council desk?”
They blinked at him. “Stash? What stash?”
Michael shook his head. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”
They left but Michael did not follow right away. He just stood there in the empty hallway, thinking.
Preston didn’t let his buddies know about the alcohol. That is a lot of vodka for just one person.
Michael’s phone went off, jolting him out of his musings.
He pulled up the text from his sister.
Mo: Bryan Charming working until five today. Convinced Mrs. Charming we have to speak to her before then and she told us to come around three. Can you make it or am I talking to her alone?
Michael: I’ll be there. How did you find out Bryan’s schedule?
Mo: I have a friend that works in Charming Industries. You find out anything at the school?
Michael: More than I bargained for. I’ll fill you in later.
He put his phone away and set off in the direction of the math wing. Unless things had changed—and in fourteen years they might have—only one teacher taught twelfth grade calculus and whoever that teacher was did so in room 206.
Michael parked himself outside and settled in to wait. The boys claimed he would know Peyton when he saw her. Whatever that meant.
The seconds ticked by until finally the bell rang signaling the students’ release. Michael called for Peyton.
“Peyton? Peyton Dunn? Are you Peyton Dunn?”
It was a chorus of nos until he heard—
“I’m Peyton Dunn. What do you want?”
Michael turned around, a greeting on his lips that died the moment he laid eyes on the girl stepping out of the classroom.
Peyton waddled toward him on swollen feet. One hand carrying her backpack, the other rested on her protruding stomach. Peyton Dunn was pregnant. And from the looks of it, she was ready to pop at any moment.
She heaved a sigh. “I said, what do you want?”
He started. “Yes, sorry. I’m Michael Grimm of Grimm Investigations,” he said quickly. “I’m investigating the death of Preston Charming. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”
Her face shuttered closed. “I have to get to class.” She sidestepped him and walked off as fast as her legs could carry her, but in her condition that wasn’t very fast.
Michael caught up easily. “I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind. I only have a few questions.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Where were you Friday night?”
She laughed, it was a harsh sound without any mirth. “Getting right to the point, I see.”
He waited.
“I was home, okay. My parents don’t exactly let me out much anymore after...” She waved her hand at her stomach.
“Do you live on our side?”
“Our side?” She stopped sprinting and sized him up. “Which side are you talking about, Grimm?”
“I’m talking about the one I grew up on almost my whole life. Hint: it wasn’t the side with the gold fountains and grand balls.”
“You’re a townie too.” She seemed to have a whole new respect for him. He watched the hostility drain from her face.
He scoffed. “Is that what they’re calling us nowadays? I guess it’s better than what they called us when I went to school here.”
“Guess again. Townie is them being polite. They got all sorts of names for us kids here on scholarship.”
“Did Preston call you those names?”
She averted her eyes. “Preston was different. The girl he dated before me and the girl he was with now were all from our side. He didn’t seem to care about that stuff.”
Michael softened his voice. “The baby... is it Preston’s?”
She shook her head. “No. I cheated on him with the father and then I broke up with him.”
“How did Preston take it?”
“He was pissed, of course, but he got over it. He started dating that Ino chick and that was it.”
“So you guys weren’t on bad terms?”
“We were not on any terms. He hasn’t even spoken to me in months. Look, is that all?”
“Just one more question. Did Preston have a drinking problem?”
She tensed, her body going rigid. “What?”
He repeated the question.
Peyton hitched her bag over her shoulder. “I gotta get to class,” she said, expressionless.
Michael let her go without a word. He could have pressed for her to answer the question, but in a way, she already had.
MICHAEL LEFT THE SCHOOL parking lot and headed for the gate. He was ravenous and needed to grab some lunch if he was going to come back and question a grieving mother. It was less than convenient having to trek all the way out of the community to get food on his side, but Fairy Tails didn’t have fast food restaurants or cheap little eateries. It was all fine dining on their side and he didn’t have the money or the clothes to eat in the parking lot of these places, let alone in the actual buildings.
Michael took his wallet to the Little Pigs, scarfed down a turkey cheese panini, then got in his car to make the long drive back. When he arrived at the Charming house, he parked his car next to his sister’s in their expansive driveway.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he checked the screen before ringing the doorbell
. It was a text from Ella. They had been texting a bit since yesterday, nothing serious, she mostly shared with him the Adventures of Scrap, as she called it.
Michael opened the newest message and laughed out loud. It was a photo of Adalynn in her usual attire and sleeping in her favorite spot with one noticeable difference. Curled up on her chest was little Scrap, sleeping contentedly while on the floor Luscious stared at the pair looking none too pleased.
Ella: I think the next murder case you’re going to be investigating is Scrap’s. Luscious is out for blood.
The door swung open before he could type his reply and Michael followed the inscrutable butler through and into the kitchen. His sister was sitting at the island, blowing on a cup of tea.
Penelope stood up when he arrived. “Mr. Grimm, good afternoon. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I would love a cup of tea. Thank you, ma’am.”
She nodded and stood to refill the pot. She looked stronger today. Eyes still rimmed with red, but Michael didn’t get the feeling a light breeze would send her over the edge, which was good because he had some hard questions to ask her.
“Thank you for seeing us, Mrs. Charming.”
“Of course,” she said tremulously. “I want to know the progress you’ve made on Preston’s case. Do you have any idea who did this to my son?”
“I’m sorry but not yet. I feel I’m getting close though. I went to Castle Rock Prep today and spoke with some of Preston’s classmates. One of them being Peyton Dunn.”
Crash!
Monica jumped when the kettle slipped from Penelope’s hand, showering the kitchen floor with tea.
“Oh no. It just slipped.”
Penelope grabbed a kitchen towel and got down on her knees, rushing to clean it up.
Monica climbed off her stool. “Penelope, let me get that while you speak with my brother.”
“But I have to—”
“Please. It’s no trouble.” She helped Penelope to her feet and guided her over to a chair.
Penelope leaned forward and rested her head on her clasped hands.
“Peyton Dunn,” Michael probed after he realized she wasn’t going to speak first. “Do you remember her?”
“She was Preston’s girlfriend before Abigail.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.