Once Upon A Murder

by D E Dennis

  “Did you know she was pregnant?”

  She nodded. “Yes. That is why they broke up. She cheated on him with someone else. She was such a sweet girl too.” She lifted her head. “Why are you asking about her?”

  “I’m just filling you in on what I know so far. I spoke to his friends, Lance and Auggie, and they both don’t know what or who could have lured Preston to the woods that night.”

  Her face crumpled, and Michael rubbed her back as she began to cry.

  “I don’t know either,” she sobbed. “I have gone over that night a hundred times in my head, but nothing makes sense. Nothing will ever make sense.”

  “Why don’t we go through it together. I’m here to help you, Mrs. Charming. That is all I want to do.”

  She looked at him, her eyes seeking. After a minute, she seemed to make her mind up and her trembling lip stilled. “Okay. What do you need to know?”

  Michael caught Monica’s eye and she tossed the wet rag on the counter behind her and stepped forward. “Tell us everything that happened that night, Mrs. Charming. Everything he said and did.”

  She blew out a breath. “It’s like I told you the other day. Preston came home and worked on his schoolwork. He had a science project due this week. At some point, he came down to get a glass of water for his pill.”

  “Pill?” Monica pressed.

  “He said his stomach was bothering him. I asked him if he wanted me to make him something, but he said he would just take some nausea medicine and then took the water upstairs. The next time he came down, it was to say he was going out and that— That was the last time—”

  Monica gently pulled her back. “How did he seem when he left? Angry? Upset? Anxious?”

  “No,” she wailed. “He was smiling, happy. That’s why I just don’t understand.”

  Michael and Monica’s eyes met over Penelope’s head.

  “Mrs. Charming,” Michael said when her tears slowed. “Why was Preston cut off?”

  She blinked at him, sniffling. “What?”

  “Why did you and your husband take his money and credit cards away?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Michael went through a dozen different ways to say what he was going to say next, but none sounded any better than the last, so he just came out with it.

  “Mrs. Charming,” he began. “Did you and your husband suspect Preston had a drinking problem? Is that why you took his credit cards away?”

  “How— How did you—”

  “I found bottles of alcohol cleverly hidden in Preston’s school desk.”

  She slouched and her head fell into her hands like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

  “Mrs. Charming?”

  Slowly, she nodded. “At first we thought it was just teenage hijinks. Blowing off steam with his friends. But then we started to smell alcohol on his breath at all hours of the day. I tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn’t speak to me. It was when he stumbled inside drunk one night having just driven himself home that Brian put his foot down. He cut him off until he started shaping up.” She lifted her head. “But what does that have to do with his death?”

  “Every detail is important, Mrs. Charming,” Michael replied skirting the answer. “So if there’s anything else you think could be important. Anyone at all that may have had a grudge against him. Let us know now.”

  She bit her lip, casting her eyes down. “There is something.” Michael and Monica leaned in. “It’s about—”

  “Excuse me? What is this?”

  Michael turned in his seat to face the owner of that angry voice. “Hello, Mr. Charming.”

  “What are you two doing in my house?” The words were directed at him, but Bryan’s eyes were latched onto his wife.

  “We work for you, Mr. Charming,” Monica said smoothly. “We are here to give a progress report on the case.”

  “While I’m not here?”

  “This was the only time that worked for us.”

  “Well, it doesn’t work for us,” he said coldly. “Next time you make an appointment to meet us, make sure we are both available. Is that clear?”

  She smiled blandly. “You’re the client. Whatever works for you.”

  “Good.” He stepped up to the counter. “Well, let’s hear it then. How close are you to finding my son’s killer?”

  Monica’s eyes flicked over to Michael and he gave her a slight headshake. He didn’t need her to take over so he could observe Bryan Charming. He had the full measure of this man already.

  “I went to your son’s school today and...” He told him about speaking to Lance, Auggie, and then finally Peyton. Bryan went beet red at the mention of her name.

  “What did she tell you?” he demanded.

  “She said things ended with your son when she cheated on him, and they haven’t spoken since. Why? What did you think she would say?”

  He scowled. “I thought she would lie. I’m relieved to hear that she didn’t. She was awful to my son when they were together. I won’t have her spreading false rumors and innuendos now that he’s gone.”

  Michael inclined his head. “I also learned of your son’s drinking problem.”

  “Drinking problem?” His eyes flew to Penelope and Michael hurried to add, “I figured it out when I found the bottles of vodka in his desk. He took great pains to hide them.”

  Bryan’s eyes settled on him. He now had his full attention. “He hid them because he didn’t want detention. My son did not have a drinking problem and it’s quite irresponsible for you to suggest otherwise. I told you, Mr. Grimm, that I would protect my son from malicious rumors at any cost. I will take apart, piece by piece, anyone who makes the mistake of slandering Preston’s name.” His eyes pierced into Michael’s, locked in their staredown. “Anyone.”

  A humorless smile stretched across Michael’s face. “Understood.”

  Bryan gave him a smile to match. “Excellent. Shall I have Benson escort you out?”

  Michael rose from the stool. “That won’t be necessary. We know the way.”

  “Wonderful. Then, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  Michael paused. “Sunday?”

  “Yes. The next time we meet will be Sunday evening at six. I’ll be expecting the name of my son’s killer by then, and if you don’t have it...”

  He let the threat hang in the air with the rest.

  Michael nodded sedately. “Sunday at six it is.”

  Chapter Six

  The door slammed shut behind them, but Michael and Monica didn’t leave right away.

  Monica cursed. “That guy is—”

  “Yep.”

  “I mean where does he get off—”

  “I know.”

  “If we didn’t need the money I would—”

  “I would too.”

  Monica huffed. “It’s Monday, Michael. He expects us to deliver the killer on Sunday or he’s going to see to it that Grimm Investigations closes its doors. What are we going to do?”

  Michael rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “The only thing we can do. We’re going to solve this case.”

  She cracked a smile. “Guess we better get started then. I’ll meet you back at the office.”

  They stepped off the porch and climbed into their cars. Michael trailed behind Monica, worrying his lip throughout the drive.

  When they arrived, Michael got the coffee brewing while Monica booted up her laptop and settled in the breakroom.

  Michael filled up the mugs and joined her. “So what do you got?”

  “You first.”

  He handed her the coffee and collapsed into the armchair. “There is not much more to tell...”

  Michael went through the conversations he had at the school, telling her what everyone said word for word. “What do you think?” he finished.

  She grinned. “I think there’s something you should see.” She stood up and placed the laptop in his lap. “I’ve been looking over the pictures
from the party, and I noticed two things. See if you can pick them out yourself.”

  “Okay.” He clicked through, studying each one closely. “Monica, what am I supposed—” Then he saw it.

  It was a picture of Preston and Abigail. Preston was sitting on the couch, Abby in his lap and a red cup in his hand. Abby had her arm around him and they were both smiling for whoever was taking their picture, but the person behind them was not. Clearly said person was unaware they were being photographed or they might have turned down the lip-curling glare they were directing at the back of Preston’s head.

  Michael flipped the computer around to show Monica. “Is it me or does it look like he is trying to light Preston Charming on fire with his mind?”

  “I’m right with you, bro. That is exactly what it looks like to me. Everyone keeps saying no one had beef with Preston, but it looks like that kid has the whole dang cow. Now we just need to find out who he is.”

  “Oh, I know who he is,” Michael said, smirking. “That is Lance Hart of Hart Hospitals. Preston’s supposed best friend.”

  Monica lifted a brow. “We have been saying the killer must be someone in Preston’s circle. Did he give you an alibi?”

  “He said he was home all night working on this infamous science project. We’re going to find out how true that is.”

  “I’m on it. I have a friend that works for the Harts.”

  He snorted. “You have friends all over this town.”

  She shrugged lightly. “People are attracted to my warm and bubbly personality. I can’t help that.”

  There was a perfect opening to say something smart, but Michael didn’t take it. He would earn his head slap another day. He looked down at the photo again. There was no doubt in his mind that he was looking at Preston and the hate in his eyes chilled him.

  “Did you see the other curious thing?”

  Michael wrenched his eyes away. “What?”

  “There were two things wrong with the photos, Michael. Did you catch it?”

  He shook his head and handed the laptop back. “Show me.”

  She flipped through them. “Look. There are almost two hundred pictures here. All ranging from before the party started when they were setting up to when things started winding down, and something or should I say someone is missing in every one.”

  Michael looked at her, waiting.

  “Delilah Ino. Apparently, this was the hottest party of the year. Everyone was there except for the host’s twin sister. Does that seem odd? Did she not want to go to the party or was she not invited?”

  Michael pounced on the laptop and flipped through himself but she was right. The twins looked similar, but anyone paying attention would see that Delilah had a longer face and that long face was in none of the party photos.

  “Interesting.”

  “It might be nothing,” Monica cautioned, “but it’s worth asking about.”

  “I agree.” He handed the computer back. “What about the pictures from Preston’s room?”

  She shook her head. “Looked through them, but there’s nothing much to see. It’s just a typical messy guy’s bedroom.”

  “That may be something in and of itself. I’ve been through that guy’s desk and he’s obsessively tidy. Why was his room such a mess?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe because he was at school versus being at home in his own space. The neat, polished, smiling Prince Preston at school while at home he was just himself. Not worrying about his image.”

  He inclined his head. “Good point. I’ll still look through them, but it’s probably like you said. Send them to my laptop later.”

  “Will do, big brother.”

  Michael’s phone went off, and he rescued it from his pocket. Another text from Ella.

  “Alright, thanks, Mo,” he said distractedly, typing in his reply. “Let me know when you’ve confirmed Lance’s alibi.”

  She agreed, and he went back to his desk. Reclining in his seat, he gazed up at the ceiling as all the pieces of the case floated through his mind. He didn’t know how they fit together yet, but he would. Soon.

  MICHAEL AND MONICA worked on their respective tasks for the rest of the evening. Monica made calls and tracked down alibis, while Michael worked on completing the bathroom renovation. Monica threatened his life saying he better have handles on the sink before the day was over. He didn’t mind though. The work helped clear his head.

  When they were both done, they locked up the office, hopped in their cars, and drove to their usual Monday night dinner spot.

  Mom’s house.

  She greeted them both with a hug and kisses on the cheek. “I made your favorite,” she said to Monica. “Mannish water, ackee, and saltfish.”

  Michael toed off his shoes, salivating from the aromas wafting from the kitchen. He was a pretty decent cook. His mother had taught him and growing up he would take over dinner and feed himself and his sister when his mother had to work late, but despite all his practice, he still couldn’t perfectly replicate her dishes. No one could match his mother in the food arena.

  They settled in the kitchen, sipping glasses of wine while his mother finished cooking and plating the food.

  There wasn’t much room in the kitchen for the three of them, but they made do. There hadn’t been much room for them back when Michael was half his size either. The place was just that small. Only two bedrooms, a cramped kitchen, and a living/dining/guest room combo when the pullout couch was in use, but despite all that it was home.

  “How’s the case going?” his mother asked.

  Monica swallowed a sip of wine before answering. “We can’t give you any details but it’s going well. We’re going to talk to another suspect tomorrow who may be able to shed some light on why Preston Charming was in the woods that night.”

  Kimona shivered. “Such an awful place. Why would anyone want to be there during the day, let alone at night?”

  “That is the question, Mom,” Michael said.

  “Well, you two be careful,” she said sternly, waving a serving spoon at them. “You hear me.”

  Michael wiped the splatter of soup from his chin. “Yes, Mom. We hear you.”

  She harrumphed. “Good.”

  “We’ve actually been given a deadline, Mom,” Monica said. “We’re to solve this case before Sunday evening or we’re fired. So, the dinner we’re having this weekend will either be a celebration or a pity party.”

  Kimona looked at them worriedly. “You’re to find a killer in less than a week? But that is not enough time.”

  “Those are our orders.”

  “Nonsense.” She kissed her teeth. “At least you have Samira to help you. Between the three of you, you’ll find the monster who did this in no time. Will she be coming to dinner on Saturday?”

  Michael suddenly became overly interested in his wine. “Mom, this is delicious. Where did you get—”

  “Michael Cornelius Grimm.”

  He winced.

  “Did you ask Samira out to dinner, like I told you to?”

  “I’ve been busy,” he said defensively. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her since yesterday.”

  “Well, make sure you do. She was there for me during a very difficult time in my life, and I want her to know that I am there for her as well. It can’t have been easy uprooting her whole life to move out here alone.”

  “I know, Mom,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  She favored him with a smile and thankfully let the matter drop. They changed the conversation to other topics while they moved into the other room to have their dinner.

  “So how are you feeling, Mom?” Monica asked as they sat down. She slipped her hand into Kimona’s.

  “I’m just fine, baby girl. I’ve been keeping my strength up and doing my daily exercise routine. Tomorrow the girls and I are taking on a new trail.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad you’ve been so active. I worry about you locked up in this house all day.”


  She hummed, picking up her fork. “It’s true, I never planned on retiring this early, but I’ve been making the most of it. I’ve been getting back to all the hobbies I put on hold for work and kids. I’ve got great friends who I spend time with almost every day, and my wonderful children spoil me and make sure I don’t want for anything.”

  “You don’t get lonely without Daddy around?”

  Michael looked up from his soup to give his sister a warning look.

  “No, love,” Kimona said softly, “I don’t get lonely. Not anymore. It’s been a long time since all of that happened. I’ve moved on.”

  Heaving a sigh, Monica pouted into her bowl. “I just always thought you two would get back together and—”

  Michael’s hand tightened around the spoon. “Monica,” he hissed, “leave it alone.”

  “What? What did I say?”

  Their mother cleared her throat. “It’s fine, Michael. You don’t have to get upset.” She turned to Monica. “And you don’t have to worry about my love life. Besides, I’m much more interested in yours and when the two of you plan on giving me grandchildren?”

  “Mom, this soup is delicious,” Monica gushed with a hint of panic in her eyes. “You’ve got to teach me how to make it sometime.”

  Kimona lifted her brow. “Oh? Do I? You’ve never shown an interest in learning how to cook before. How funny that it springs up the moment I bring up grandbabies.”

  She shrugged. “You know me. I’m unpredictable like that.”

  They fell into laughter and just like that the tension dissolved.

  MICHAEL FLOPPED DOWN onto his bed, beat. In the sink, there were dirty dishes calling his name and the living room rug was begging to be vacuumed, but that would all have to wait, most likely until after the case was over. When he had a problem to solve, everything else was pushed aside.

  Michael turned over on his back and stared at the popcorn ceiling, his mind a whirl. He couldn’t stop thinking about dinner and Monica’s supposedly innocent question.

  Why should Mom feel lonely? She has us. She’s always had us.

  A feeling he couldn’t describe possessing him, Michael rose from the bed and approached his dresser. He knelt and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out an album that had not seen the light of day for a while. About eight years if his memory served. He threw this in the drawer the day he moved in and hadn’t looked at it since, until now.